Roberta  Eind;art 


LONG    LIVE    THE    KING!      Illustrated. 

THE  ALTAR  OF  FREEDOM. 

TISH.     Illustrated  in  color. 

THROUGH  GLACIER  PARK.  Illustrated. 

K.     Illustrated. 

THE  STREET  OF  SEVEN  STARS. 

THE  AFTER  HOUSE.     Illustrated. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 


LONG  LIVE 
THE  KING! 


BY 


MARY   ROBERTS   RINEHART 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 
ARTHUR    BECHER 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK. 

HOUGHTON    MIFFLIN    COMPANY 

<Cbe  Rtoctfibe  pre#  Cambribgr 

1917 


COPYRIGHT,    1917,    BY   THE    RIDGWAY    COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,    1917,    BY    MARY    ROBERTS    RINEHART 

ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  September  79/7 


CONTENTS 

I.  The  Crown  Prince  runs  away          .         .       I 
II.  And  sees  the  World         .        .        .         .10 

III.  Disgraced 19 

IV.  The  Terror     .        .        .        .        .        .28 

V.  At  the  Riding-School       .         .        .        .38 

VI.  The  Chancellor  pays  a  Visit    .         .         •     54 

VII.  Tea  in  the  Schoolroom    .        .         .        .61 

VIII.  The  Letter 69 

IX.  A  Fine  Night 79 

X.  The  Right  to  live  and  love         .         .         .90 

XI.  Rather  a  Wild  Night      .....  101 

XII.  Two  Prisoners 121 

XIII.  In  the  Park 130 

XIV.  Nikky  does  a  Reckless  Thing  .         .  146 
XV.  Father  and  Daughter       .        .        .         .161 

XVI.  On  the  Mountain  Road  .         .         .         .173 

XVII.  The  Fortress 188 

XVIII.  Old  Adelbert 196 

XIX.  The  Committee  of  Ten    .        .        .        .211 

XX.  The  Delegation 232 

XXI.  As  a  Man  may  love  a  Woman         .        .  243 


vi  CONTENTS 

XXII.  AtEtzel 253 

XXIII.  Nikky  makes  a  Promise          .         .         .  267 

XXIV.  The  Birthday          .        .        .         .         .275 
XXV.  The  Gate  of  the  Moon     ....  287 

XXVI.  At  the  Inn  ...  .  .  .305 

XXVII.  The  Little  Door 317 

XXVIII.  The  Crown  Prince's  Pilgrimage  .  .  333 

XXIX.  Old  Adelbert  the  Traitor  .  .  .  345 
XXX.  King  Karl  .  ...  .  .359 

XXXI.  Let  Mettlich  guard  his  Treasure  .  .381 
XXXII.  Nikky  and  Hedwig  ....  395 

XXXIII.  The  Day  of  the  Carnival         .        .        .407 

XXXIV.  The  Pirate's  Den 422 

XXXV.  The  Paper  Crown  .        .        .        .434 

XXXVI.  The  King  is  dead 447 

XXXVII.  Long  live  the  King!         ....  455 

XXXVIII.  In  the  Road  of  the  Good  Children    .        .  464 

XXXIX.  The  Lincoln  Penny        ....  473 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

^5  she  peered  into  the  darkened  interior  the  shadow  re 
solved  itself  into  a  cloaked  and  masked  figure.  She 
shrank  back  (page  221) .  .  .  .  Frontispiece 

He  flung  out  his  arms,  that  were  both  furious  and  strong, 
and  with  each  blow  the  group  assumed  a  new  forma 
tion  .........  102 

"For  him  I  lost  this  leg  of  mine,  and  lost  it  without 
grieving.  When  I  lay  in  the  hospital  he  himself 
came,  and — " 198 

Hedwig,  with  shining  eyes,  was  already  planning. 
"  We  will  go  away,  Nikky,"  she  said,  "and  it  must 
be  soon." 246 

Karl  left  her  there  at  last,  huddled  in  her  chair,  left  full 
of  resentment,  the  ashes  of  his  old  love  cold  and  gray  310 

Thus  was  the  student  Haeckel,  patriot  and  Royalist,  led 
forth  to  die 326 

The  royal  party  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  street    .         .  342 

And  there  at  last  Karl  cornered  Hedwig  and  de 
manded  speech 374 


LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

CHAPTER  I 
THE   CROWN   PRINCE   RUNS  AWAY 

THE  Crown  Prince  sat  in  the  royal  box  and  swung 
his  legs.  This  was  hardly  princely,  but  the  royal  legs 
did  not  quite  reach  the  floor  from  the  high  crimson- 
velvet  seat  of  his  chair. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  bored.  His 
royal  robes,  consisting  of  a  pair  of  blue  serge  trou 
sers,  a  short  Eton  jacket,  and  a  stiff,  rolling  collar 
of  white  linen,  irked  him. 

He  had  been  brought  to  the  Opera  House  under  a 
misapprehension.  His  aunt,  the  Archduchess  Annun- 
ciata,  had  strongly  advocated  "The  Flying  Dutch 
man,"  and  his  English  governess,  Miss  Braithwaite, 
had  read  him  some  inspiring  literature  about  it.  So 
here  he  was,  and  the  Flying  Dutchman  was  not 
ghostly  at  all,  nor  did  it  fly.  It  was,  from  the  royal 
box,  only  too  plainly  a  ship  which  had  length  and 
height,  without  thickness.  And  instead  of  flying, 
after  dreary  aeons  of  singing,  it  was  moved  off  on 
creaky  rollers  by  men  whose  shadows  were  thrown 
grotesquely  on  the  sea  backing. 

The  orchestra,  assisted  by  a  bass  solo  and  inter- 


2  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

mittent  thunder  in  the  wings,  was  making  a  deafen 
ing  din.  One  of  the  shadows  on  the  sea  backing  took 
out  its  handkerchief  and  wiped  its  nose. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  looked  across  at 
the  other  royal  box,  and  caught  his  Cousin  Hedwig's 
eye.  She  also  had  seen  the  handkerchief;  she  took 
out  her  own  scrap  of  linen,  and  mimicked  the 
shadow.  Then,  Her  Royal  Highness  the  Archduchess 
Annunciata  being  occupied  with  the  storm,  she 
winked  across  at  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto. 

In  the  opposite  box  were  his  two  cousins,  the 
Princesses  Hedwig  and  Hilda,  attended  by  Hedwig's 
lady  in  waiting.  When  a  princess  of  the  Court  be 
comes  seventeen,  she  drops  governesses  and  takes 
to  ladies  in  wraiting.  Hedwig  was  eighteen.  The 
Crown  Prince  liked  Hedwig  better  than  Hilda.  Al 
though  she  had  been  introduced  formally  to  the 
Court  at  the  Christmas- Eve  ball,  and  had  been  duly 
presented  by  her  grandfather,  the  King,  with  the 
usual  string  of  pearls  and  her  own  carriage  with 
the  spokes  of  the  wheels  gilded  halfway,  —  only  the 
King  and  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  all- 
gold  wheels,  —  she  still  ran  off  now  and  then  to  have 
tea  with  the  Crown  Prince  and  Miss  Braithwaite  in 
the  schoolroom  at  the  Palace;  and  she  could  eat  a 
great  deal  of  bread-and-butter. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  winked  back  at 
the  Princess  Hedwig.  And  just  then  —  "Listen, 
Otto,"  said  the  Archduchess,  leaning  forward.  "The 
'Spinning  Song'  — is  it  not  exquisite?" 


THE  CROWN   PRINCE  RUNS  AWAY         3 

"They  are  only  pretending  to  spin,"  remarked 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto. 

Nevertheless  he  listened  obediently.  He  rather 
liked  it.  They  had  not  fooled  him  at  all.  They  were 
not  really  spinning,  —  any  one  could  see  that,  — 
but  they  were  sticking  very  closely  to  their  business 
of  each  outsinging  the  other,  and  collectively  of 
drowning  out  the  orchestra. 

The  spinning  chorus  was  followed  by  long  and 
tiresome  solos.  The  Crown  Prince  yawned  again, 
although  it  was  but  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 
Catching  Hedwig's  eye,  he  ran  his  fingers  up  through 
his  thick  yellow  hair  and  grinned.  Hedwig  blushed. 
She  had  confided  to  him  once,  while  they  were  walk 
ing  in  the  garden  at  the  summer  palace,  that  she 
was  thinking  of  being  in  love  with  a  young  lieutenant 
who  was  attached  to  the  King's  suite.  The  Prince  — 
who  was  called  Otto,  for  short,  by  the  family,  be 
cause  he  actually  had  eleven  names  —  the  Prince 
had  been  much  interested.  For  some  time  after 
ward  he  had  bothered  Miss  Braithwaite  to  define 
being  in  love,  but  he  had  had  no  really  satisfactory 
answer. 

In  pursuance  of  his  quest  for  information,  he  had 
grown  quite  friendly  with  the  young  officer,  whose 
name  was  Larisch,  and  had  finally  asked  to  have 
him  ride  with  him  at  the  royal  riding-school.  The 
grim  old  King  had  granted  the  request,  but  it  had 
been  quite  fruitless  so  far  after  all.  Lieutenant  La 
risch  only  grew  quite  red  as  to  the  ears  when  love  was 


4  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

mentioned,  although  he  appeared  not  unwilling  to 
hear  Hedwig's  name. 

The  Crown  Prince  had  developed  a  strong  liking 
for  the  young  officer.  He  assured  Hedwig  one  time 
when  she  came  to  tea  that  when  he  was  king  he 
would  see  that  she  married  the  lieutenant.  But 
Hedwig  was  much  distressed. 

"I  don't  want  him  that  way,"  she  said.  "Any 
how,  I  shall  probably  have  to  marry  some  wretch 
with  ears  that  stick  out  and  a  bad  temper.  I  dare 
say  he 's  selected  already.  As  to  Lieutenant  Larisch, 
I'm  sure  he's  in  love  with  Hilda.  You  should  see 
the  way  he  stares  at  her." 

"Pish!"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  over 
his  cup.  "Hilda  is  not  as  pretty  as  you  are.  And 
Nikky  and  I  talk  about  you  frequently." 

"Nikky"  was  the  officer.  The  Crown  Prince  was 
very  informal  with  the  people  he  liked. 

"Good  gracious!"  exclaimed  the  Princess  Hed 
wig,  coloring.  "And  what  do  you  say?" 

Miss  Braithwaite  having  left  the  room,  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto  took  another  lump  of 
sugar.  "Say?  Oh,  not  much,  you  know.  He  asks 
how  you  are,  and  I  tell  him  you  are  well,  and  that 
you  ate  thirteen  pieces  of  bread  at  tea,  or  whatever 
it  may  have  been.  The  day  Miss  Braithwaite  had 
the  toothache,  and  you  and  I  ate  the  fruit-cake  her 
sister  had  sent  from  England,  he  was  very  anxious. 
He  said  we  both  deserved  to  be  ill." 

The  Princess  Hedwig  had  been  blushing  uncom- 


fortably,  but  now  she  paled.  "He  dared  to  say 
that?"  she  stormed.  "He  dared!"  And  she  had 
picked  up  her  muff  and  gone  out  in  a  fine  temper. 

Only  —  and  this  was  curious  —  by  the  next  day 
she  had  forgiven  the  lieutenant,  and  was  angry  at 
Ferdinand  William  Otto.  Women  are  very  strange. 

So  now  Ferdinand  William  Otto  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  fair  hair,  which  was  a  favorite  gesture 
of  the  lieutenant's,  and  Hedwig  blushed.  After  that 
she  refused  to  look  across  at  him,  but  sat  staring 
fixedly  at  the  stage,  where  Frau  Hugli,  in  a  short 
skirt,  a  black  velvet  bodice,  and  a  white  apron,  with 
two  yellow  braids  over  her  shoulders,  was  listening 
with  all  the  coyness  of  forty  years  and  six  children 
at  home  to  the  love-making  of  a  man  in  a  false  black 
beard. 

The  Archduchess,  sitting  well  back,  was  nodding. 
Just  outside  the  royal  box,  on  the  red-velvet  sofa, 
General  Mettlich,  who  was  the  Chancellor,  and  had 
come  because  he  had  been  invited  and  stayed  out 
side  because  he  said  he  liked  to  hear  music,  not  see 
it,  was  sound  asleep.  His  martial  bosom,  with  its 
gold  braid,  was  rising  and  falling  peacefully.  Beside 
him  lay  the  Prince's  crown,  a  small  black  derby 
hat. 

The  Princess  Hilda  looked  across,  and  smiled  and 
nodded  at  Ferdinand  William  Otto.  Then  she  went 
back  to  the  music ;  she  held  the  score  in  her  hand  and 
followed  it  note  by  note.  She  was  studying  music,  and 
her  mother,  who  was  the  Archduchess,  was  watching 


6  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

her.  But  now  and  then,  when  her  mother's  eyes  were 
glued  to  the  stage,  Hilda  stole  a  glance  at  the  upper 
balconies  where  impecunious  young  officers  leaned 
over  the  rail  and  gazed  at  her  respectfully. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  considered  it  all 
very  wearisome.  If  one  could  only  wander  around 
the  corridor  or  buy  a  sandwich  from  the  stand  at  the 
foot  of  the  great  staircase  —  or,  better  still,  if  one 
could  only  get  to  the  street,  alone,  and  purchase  one 
of  the  fig  women  that  Miss  Braithwaite  so  despised! 
The  Crown  Prince  felt  in  his  pocket,  where  his  week's 
allowance  of  pocket-money  lay  comfortably  un 
touched. 

The  Archduchess,  shielded  by  the  velvet  hangings 
with  the  royal  arms  on  them,  was  now  quite  com 
fortably  asleep.  From  the  corridor  came  sounds 
indicating  that  the  Chancellor  preferred  making 
noises  to  listening  to  them.  There  were  signs  on  the 
stage  that  Frau  Hugli,  braids,  six  children,  and  all, 
was  about  to  go  into  the  arms  of  the  man  with  the 
false  beard. 

The  Crown  Prince  meditated.  He  could  go  out 
quickly,  and  be  back  before  they  knew  it.  Even  if 
he  only  wandered  about  the  corridor,  it  would  stretch 
His  short  legs.  And  outside  it  was  a  fine  day.  It 
looked  already  like  spring. 

With  the  trepidation  of  a  canary  who  finds  his 
cage  door  open,  and,  hopping  to  the  threshold,  sur 
veys  the  world  before  venturing  to  explore  it,  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto  rose  to  his  feet,  tiptoed  past 


THE  CROWN  PRINCE  RUNS  AWAY         7 

the  Archduchess  Annunciata,  who  did  not  move,  and 
looked  around  him  from  the  doorway. 

The  Chancellor  slept.  In  the  royal  dressing-room 
behind  the  box  a  lady  in  waiting  was  sitting  and 
crocheting.  She  did  not  care  for  opera.  A  maid  was 
spreading  the  royal  ladies'  wraps  before  the  fire. 
The  princesses  had  shed  their  furred  carriage  boots 
just  inside  the  door.  They  were  in  a  row,  very  small 
and  dainty. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  picked  up  his  hat 
and  concealed  it  by  his  side.  Then  nonchalantly, 
as  if  to  stretch  his  legs  by  walking  ten  feet  up  the 
corridor  and  back,  he  passed  the  dressing-room  door. 
Another  moment,  and  he  was  out  of  sight  around  a 
bend  of  the  passageway,  and  before  him  lay  liberty. 

Not  quite !  At  the  top  of  the  private  staircase  re 
served  for  the  royal  family  a  guard  commonly  stood. 
He  had  moved  a  few  feet  from  his  post,  however,  and 
was  watching  the  stage  through  the  half-open  door 
of  a  private  loge.  His  rifle,  with  its  fixed  bayonet, 
leaned  against  the  stair-rail. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  passed  behind  him 
\vith  outward  calmness.  At  the  top  of  the  public 
staircase,  however,  he  hesitated.  Here,  everywhere, 
were  brass-buttoned  officials  of  the  Opera  House.  A 
garderobe  woman  stared  at  him  curiously.  There 
was  a  noise  from  the  house,  too,  —  a  sound  of  clap 
ping  hands  and  "bravos."  The  little  Prince  looked 
at  the  woman  with  appeal  in  his  eyes.  Then,  with  his 
heart  thumping,  he  ran  past  her,  down  the  white 


8  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

marble  staircase,  to  where  the  great  doors  promised 
liberty. 

Olga,  the  wardrobe  woman,  came  out  from  be 
hind  her  counter,  and  stood  looking  down  the  marble 
staircase  after  the  small  flying  figure. 

"Blessed  Saints!"  she  said,  wondering.  "How 
much  that  child  resembled  His  Royal  Highness!" 

The  old  soldier  who  rented  opera  glasses  at  the  sec 
ond  landing,  and  who  had  left  a  leg  in  Bosnia,  leaned 
over  the  railing.  "Look  at  that!"  he  exclaimed. 
"He  will  break  a  leg,  the  young  rascal !  Once  I  could 
have  —  but  there,  he  is  safe !  The  good  God  watches 
over  fools  and  children." 

"It  looked  like  the  little  Prince,"  said  the  ward 
robe  woman.  "  I  have  seen  him  often  —  he  has  the 
same  bright  hair." 

But  the  opera-glass  man  was  not  listening.  He 
had  drawn  a  long  sausage  from  one  pocket  and  a  roll 
from  the  other,  and  now,  retiring  to  a  far  window,  he 
stood  placidly  eating  —  a  bite  of  sausage,  a  bite  of 
bread.  His  mind  was  in  Bosnia,  with  his  leg.  And 
because  old  Adelbert's  mind  was  in  Bosnia,  and  be 
cause  one  hears  with  the  mind,  and  not  with  the  ear, 
he  did  not  hear  the  sharp  question  of  the  sentry  who 
ran  down  the  stairs  and  paused  for  a  second  at  the 
cloak-room.  Well  for  Olga,  too,  that  old  Adelbert 
did  not  hear  her  reply. 

"He  has  not  passed  here,"  she  said,  with  wide  and 
honest  eyes,  but  with  an  ear  toward  old  Adelbert. 
"An  old  gentleman  came  a  moment  ago  and  got  a 


THE  CROWN  PRINCE  RUNS  AWAY         9 

sandwich,  which  he  had  left  in  his  overcoat.  Per 
haps  this  is  whom  you  are  seeking?" 

The  sentry  cursed,  and  ran  down  the  staircase,  the 
nails  in  his  shoes  striking  sharply  on  the  marble. 

At  the  window,  old  Adelbert  cut  off  another  slice 
of  sausage  with  his  pocket-knife  and  sauntered  back 
to  his  table  of  opera  glasses  at  the  angle  of  the  balus 
trade.  The  hurrying  figure  of  the  sentry  below 
caught  his  eye.  "Another  fool!"  he  grumbled,  look 
ing  down.  "One  wrould  think  new  legs  grew  in  place 
of  old  ones,  like  the  claws  of  the  sea-creatures!" 

But  Olgaof  the  cloak-room  leaned  over  her  checks, 
with  her  lips  curved  up  in  a  smile.  ' '  The  little  one ! ' ' 
she  thought.  "And  such  courage!  He  will  make  a 
great  king!  Let  him  have  his  prank  like  the  other 
children,  and  —  God  bless  him  and  keep  him!" 


CHAPTER   II 

AND   SEES   THE   WORLD 

THE  Crown  Prince  was  just  a  trifle  dazzled  by  the 
brilliance  of  his  success.  He  paused  for  one  breath 
less  moment  under  the  porte-cochere  of  the  opera 
house ;  then  he  took  a  long  breath  and  turned  to  the 
left.  For  he  knew  that  at  the  right,  just  around  the 
corner,  were  the  royal  carriages,  with  his  own  drawn 
up  before  the  door,  and  Beppo  and  Hans  erect  on  the 
box,  their  haughty  noses  red  in  the  wind,  for  the 
early  spring  air  was  biting. 

So  he  turned  to  the  left,  and  was  at  once  swallowed 
up  in  the  street  crowd.  It  seemed  very  strange  to 
him.  Not  that  he  was  unaccustomed  to  crowds.  Had 
he  not,  that  very  Christmas,  gone  shopping  in  the 
city,  accompanied  only  by  one  of  his  tutors  and  Miss 
Braithwaite,  and  bought  for  his  grandfather,  the 
King,  a  burnt-wood  box,  which  might  hold  either 
neckties  or  gloves,  and  for  his  cousins  silver  photo 
graph  frames? 

But  this  was  different,  and  for  a  rather  peculiar 
reason.  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  never 
seen  the  back  of  a  crowd!  The  public  was  always 
lined  up,  facing  him,  smiling  and  bowing  and  God- 
blessing  him.  Small  wonder  he  thought  of  most  of 
his  future  subjects  as  being  much  like  the  ship  in  the 


AND  SEES  THE  WORLD  11 

opera,  meant  only  to  be  viewed  from  the  front.  Also, 
it  was  surprising  to  see  how  stiff  and  straight  their 
backs  were.  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had 
never  known  that  backs  could  be  so  rigid.  Those 
with  which  he  was  familiar  had  a  way  of  drooping 
forward  from  the  middle  of  the  spine  up.  It  was 
most  interesting. 

The  next  hour  was  full  of  remarkable  things.  For 
one,  he  dodged  behind  a  street-car  and  wras  almost 
run  over  by  a  taxicab.  The  policeman  on  the  corner 
came  out,  and  taking  Ferdinand  William  Otto  by 
the  shoulder,  gave  him  a  talking-to  and  a  shaking. 
Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  furious,  but  policy 
kept  him  silent;  \vhich  proves  conclusively  that  the 
Crown  Prince  had  not  only  initiative  —  witness  his 
flight  —  but  self-control  and  diplomacy.  Lucky 
country,  to  have  in  prospect  such  a  king! 

But  even  royalty  has  its  weaknesses.  At  the  next 
corner  Ferdinand  William  Otto  stopped  and  in 
vested  part  of  his  allowance  in  the  forbidden  fig  lady, 
with  arms  and  legs  of  dates,  and  eyes  of  cloves.  He 
had  wanted  one  of  these  ever  since  he  could  remem 
ber,  but  Miss  Braithwaite  had  sternly  refused  to 
authorize  the  purchase.  In  fact,  she  had  had  one  of 
the  dates  placed  under  a  microscope,  and  had  shown 
His  Royal  Highness  a  number  of  interesting  and 
highly  active  creatures  who  made  their  homes 
therein. 

His  Royal  Highness  recalled  all  this  with  great 
distinctness,  and,  immediately  dismissing  it  from 


12  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

his  mind,  ate  the  legs  and  arms  of  the  fig  woman  with 
enjoyment.  Which  —  not  the  eating  of  the  legs  and 
arms,  of  course,  but  to  be  able  to  dismiss  what  is  un 
pleasant  —  is  another  highly  desirable  royal  trait. 

So  far  his  movements  had  been  swift  and  entirely 
objective.  But  success  rather  went  to  his  head.  He 
had  never  been  out  alone  before.  Even  at  the  sum 
mer  palace  there  were  always  tutors,  or  Miss  Braith- 
waite,  or  an  aide-de-camp,  or  something.  He  hesita- 
tated,  took  out  his  small  handkerchief,  dusted  his 
shoes  with  it,  and  then  wiped  his  face.  Behind  was 
the  Opera,  looming  and  gray.  Ahead  was — the  park. 

Note  the  long  allee  between  rows  of  trees  trimmed 
to  resemble  walls  of  green  in  summer,  and  curiously 
distorted  skeletons  in  winter;  note  the  coffee-houses, 
where  young  officers  in  uniforms  sat  under  the  trees, 
reading  the  papers,  and  rising  to  bow  with  great 
clanking  and  much  ceremony  as  a  gold-wheeled  car 
riage  or  a  pretty  girl  went  by. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  the  fulfillment 
of  a  great  desire  in  his  small,  active  mind.  This  was 
nothing  less  than  a  ride  on  the  American  scenic  rail 
road,  which  had  secured  a  concession  in  a  far  corner 
of  the  park.  Hedwig's  lieutenant  had  described  it 
to  him  —  how  one  was  taken  in  a  small  car  to  a 
dizzy  height,  and  then  turned  loose  on  a  track  which 
dropped  giddily  and  rose  again,  which  hurled  one 
through  sheet-iron  tunnels  of  incredible  blackness, 
thrust  one  out  over  a  gorge,  whirled  one  in  mad 
curves  around  corners  of  precipitous  heights,  and 


AND  SEES  THE  WORLD  13 

finally  landed  one,  panting,  breathless,  shocked,  and 
reeling,  but  safe,  at  the  very  platform  where  one  had 
purchased  one's  ticket  three  eternities,  which  were 
only  minutes,  before. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  put  this  prop 
osition,  like  the  fig  woman,  to  Miss  Braithwaite. 
Miss  Braithwaite  replied  with  the  sad  history  of  an 
English  child  who  had  clutched  at  his  cap  during  a 
crucial  moment  on  a  similar  track  at  the  Crystal 
Palace  in  London. 

"When  they  picked  him  up,"  she  finished,  "every 
bone  in  his  body  was  broken." 

"Every  bone?" 

"Every  bone,"  said  Miss  Braithwaite  solemnly. 

"The  little  ones  in  his  ears,  and  all?" 

"Every  one,"  said  Miss  Braithwaite,  refusing  to 
weaken. 

The  Crown  Prince  had  pondered.  "He  must  have 
felt  like  jelly,"  he  remarked,  and  Miss  Braithwaite 
had  dropped  the  subject. 

So  now,  with  freedom  and  his  week's  allowance, 
except  the  outlay  for  the  fig  woman,  in  his  pocket, 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  started  for  the  Land 
of  Desire.  The  allee  was  almost  deserted.  It  was  the 
sacred  hour  of  coffee.  The  terraces  were  empty,  but 
from  the  coffee-houses  along  the  drive  there  came  a 
cheerful  rattle  of  cups,  a  hum  of  conversation. 

As  the  early  spring  twilight  fell,  the  gas-lamps 
along  the  allee,  always  burning,  made  a  twin  row  of 
pale  stars  ahead.  At  the  end,  even  as  the  wanderer 


14  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING ! 

gazed,  he  saw  myriads  of  tiny  red,  white,  and  blue 
lights,  rising  high  in  the  air,  outlining  the  crags  and 
peaks  of  the  sheet-iron  mountain  which  was  his  des 
tination.  The  Land  of  Desire  was  very  near! 

There  came  to  his  ears,  too,  the  occasional  rumble 
that  told  of  some  palpitating  soul  being  at  that  mo 
ment  hurled  and  twisted  and  joyously  thrilled,  as  per 
the  lieutenant's  description. 

Now  it  is  a  strange  thing,  but  true,  that  one  does 
not  reach  the  Land  of  Desire  alone;  because  the  half 
of  pleasure  is  the  sharing  of  it  with  some  one  else,  and 
the  Land  of  Desire,  alone,  is  not  the  Land  of  Desire 
at  all.  Quite  suddenly,  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  discovered  that  he  was  lonely.  He  sat  down  on 
the  curb  under  the  gas-lamp  and  ate  the  fig  woman's 
head,  taking  out  the  cloves,  because  he  did  not  like 
cloves.  At  that  moment  there  was  a  soft  whirring 
off  to  one  side  of  him,  and  a  yellow  bird,  rising  and 
falling  erratically  on  the  breeze,  careened  suddenly 
and  fell  at  his  feet. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  bent  down  and 
picked  it  up.  It  was  a  small  toy  aeroplane,  with  yel 
low  silk  planes,  guy-ropes  of  waxed  thread,  and.  a 
wooden  rudder,  its  motive  power  vested  in  a  tightly 
twisted  rubber.  One  of  the  wings  was  bent.  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto  straightened  it,  and  looked 
around  for  the  owner. 

A  small  boy  was  standing  under  the  next  gas- 
lamp.  "Gee!"  he  said  in  English.  "Did  you  see  it 
go  that  time?" 


AND   SEES  THE  WORLD  15 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  eyed  the  stranger. 
He  was  about  his  own  age,  and  was  dressed  in  a  short 
pair  of  corduroy  trousers,  much  bloomed  at  the  knee, 
a  pair  of  yellow  Russia-leather  shoes  that  reached 
well  to  his  calves,  and,  over  all,  a  shaggy  white 
sweater,  rolling  almost  to  his  chin.  On  the  very  back 
of  his  head  he  had  the  smallest  cap  that  Prince  Fer 
dinand  William  Otto  had  ever  seen. 

Now,  this  was  exactly  the  way  in  which  the  Crown 
Prince  had  always  wished  to  dress.  He  was  sud 
denly  conscious  of  the  long  trousers  on  his  own  small 
legs,  of  the  ignominy  of  his  tailless  Eton  jacket  and 
stiff,  rolling  collar,  of  the  crowning  disgrace  of  his 
derby  hat.  But  the  lonely  feeling  had  gone  from  him. 

"This  is  the  best  time  for  flying,"  he  said,  in  his 
perfect  English.  "All  the  exhibition  flights  are  at 
sundown." 

The  boy  walked  slowly  over  and  stood  looking 
down  at  him.  "You  ought  to  see  it  fly  from  the  top 
of  Pike's  Peak!"  he  remarked.  He  had  caught  sight 
of  the  despised  derby,  and  his  eyes  widened,  but  with 
instinctive  good-breeding  he  ignored  it.  "That's 
Pike's  Peak  up  there." 

He  indicated  the  very  top  of  the  Land  of  Desire. 
The  Prince  stared  up. 

"How  does  one  get  up?"  he  queried. 

"Ladders.  My  father's  the  manager.  He  lets  me 
up  sometimes." 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  stared  with  new 
awe  at  the  boy.  He  found  the  fact  much  more  re- 


1 6  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

markable  than  if  the  stranger  had  stated  that  his 
father  was  the  King  of  England.  Kings  were,  as 
you  may  say,  directly  in  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto's  line,  but  scenic  railroads  — 

"  I  had  thought  of  taking  a  journey  on  it,"  he  said, 
after  a  second's  reflection.  "Do  you  think  your 
father  will  sell  me  a  ticket?" 

"Billy  Grimm  will.    I'll  go  with  you." 

The  Prince  rose  with  alacrity.  Then  he  stopped. 
He  must,  of  course,  ask  the  strange  boy  to  be  his 
guest.  But  two  tickets!  Perhaps  his  allowance  was 
not  sufficient. 

"  I  must  see  first  how  much  it  costs,"  he  said  with 
dignity. 

The  other  boy  laughed.  "Oh,  gee !  You  come  with 
me.  It  won't  cost  anything,"  he  said,  and  led  the 
way  toward  the  towering  lights. 

For  Bobby  Thorpe  to  bring  a  small  boy  to  ride 
with  him  was  an  everyday  affair.  Billy  Grimm,  at  the 
ticket-window,  hardly  glanced  at  the  boy  who  stood, 
trembling  with  anticipation,  in  the  shadow  of  the 
booth. 

The  car  came,  and  they  climbed  in.  Perhaps,  as 
they  moved  off,  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had 
a  qualm,  occasioned  by  the  remembrance  of  the  Eng 
lish  child  who  had  met  an  untimely  end;  but  if  he 
did,  he  pluckily  hid  it. 

"  Put  your  lid  on  the  floor  of  the  car,"  said  Bobby 
Thorpe,  depositing  his  own  atom  there.  "Father 
says,  if  you  do  that,  you're  perfectly  safe." 


AND  SEES  THE  WORLD  17 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  divined  that  this 
referred  to  his  hat,  and  drew  a  small  breath  of  relief. 
And  then  they  were  off,  up  an  endless,  clicking  road 
way,  where  at  the  top  the  car  hung  for  a  breathless 
second  over  the  gulf  below;  then,  fairly  launched, 
out  on  a  trestle,  with  the  city  far  beneath  them,  and 
only  the  red,  white,  and  blue  lights  for  company; 
and  into  a  tunnel,  filled  with  roaring  noises  and  swift- 
moving  shadows.  Then  came  the  end  of  all  things  - 
a  flying  leap  down,  a  heart-breaking,  delirious  thrill, 
an  upward  sweep  just  as  the  strain  was  too  great  for 
endurance. 

"Isn't  it  bully?"  shouted  the  American  boy 
against  the  onrush  of  the  wind. 

"Fine!  "  shrieked  His  Royal  Highness,  and  braced 
himself  for  another  dip  into  the  gulf. 

Above  the  roaring  of  the  wind  in  their  ears,  neither 
child  had  heard  the  flying  feet  of  a  dozen  horses  com 
ing  down  the  allee.  They  never  knew  that  a  hatless 
young  lieutenant,  white-lipped  with  fear,  had 
checked  his  horse  to  its  haunches  at  the  ticket-booth, 
and  demanded  to  know  who  was  in  the  Land  of 
Desire. 

"Only  the  son  of  the  manager,  and  a  boy  friend  of 
his,"  replied  Billy  Grimm,  in  what  he  called  the  lingo 
of  the  country.  "What's  wrong?  Lost  anybody?" 

But  Hedwig's  lieutenant  had  wheeled  his  horse 
without  a  word,  and,  jumping  him  over  the  hedge  of 
the  allee,  was  off  in  a  despairing  search  of  the  out 
skirts  of  the  park,  followed  by  his  cavalrymen. 


18  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

As  the  last  horse  leaped  the  hedge  and  disap 
peared,  the  car  came  to  a  stop  at  the  platform. 
Quivering,  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  reached 
down  for  the  despised  hat. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  around  again?"  asked 
Bobby,  quite  casually. 

His  Highness  gasped  with  joy.  "If  —  if  you  would 
be  so  kind!"  he  said. 

And  at  the  lordly  wave  of  Bobby's  hand,  the  car 
moved  on. 


CHAPTER  III 

DISGRACED 

AT  eight  o'clock  that  evening  the  Crown  Prince  Fer 
dinand  William  Otto  approached  the  Palace  through 
the  public  square.  He  approached  it  slowly,  for  two 
reasons.  First,  he  did  not  want  to  go  back.  Second, 
he  was  rather  frightened.  He  had  an  idea  that  they 
would  be  disagreeable. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  great  deal  going  on  at  the 
palace.  Carriages  were  rolling  in  under  the  stone 
archway  and,  having  discharged  their  contents, 
mostly  gentlemen  in  uniform,  were  moving  off  with 
a  thundering  of  hoofs  that  reechoed  from  the  vaulted 
roof  of  the  entrance.  All  the  lights  were  on  in  the 
wing  where  his  grandfather,  the  King,  lived  alone. 
As  his  grandfather  hated  lights,  and  went  to  bed 
early,  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  slightly 
puzzled. 

He  stood  in  the  square  and  waited  for  a  chance  to 
slip  in  unobserved. 

He  was  very  dirty.  His  august  face  was  streaked 
with  soot,  and  his  august  hands  likewise.  His  small 
derby  hat  was  carefully  placed  on  the  very  back  of 
his  head  at  the  angle  of  the  American  boy's  cap.  As 
his  collar  had  scratched  his  neck,  he  had,  at  Bobby's 
suggestion,  taken  it  off  and  rolled  it  up.  He  decided, 


20  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

as  he  waited  in  the  square,  to  put  it  on  again.  Miss 
Braithwaite  was  very  peculiar  about  collars. 

Came  a  lull  in  the  line  of  carriages.  Prince  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto  took  a  long  breath  and  started 
forward.  As  he  advanced  he  stuck  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  swaggered  a  trifle.  It  was,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  an  exact  imitation  of  Bobby  Thorpe's  walk. 
And  to  keep  up  his  courage,  he  quoted  that  young 
gentleman's  farewell  speech  to  himself:  "What 
d'  you  care?  They  won't  eat  you,  will  they?" 

At  the  entrance  to  the  archway  stood  two  sen 
tries.  They  stood  as  if  they  were  carved  out  of  wood. 
Only  their  eyes  moved.  And  within,  in  the  court 
around  which  the  Palace  was  built,  were  the  King's 
bodyguards.  Mostly  they  sat  on  a  long  bench  and 
exchanged  conversation,  while  one  of  them  paced 
back  and  forth,  his  gun  over  his  shoulder,  in  front 
of  them.  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  knew  them 
all.  More  than  once  he  had  secured  cigarettes  from 
Lieutenant  Larisch  and  dropped  them  from  one  of 
his  windows,  which  were  just  overhead.  They  would 
look  straight  ahead  and  not  see  them,  until  the  of 
ficer's  back  was  turned.  Then  one  would  be  lighted 
and  passed  along  the  line.  Each  man  would  take  one 
puff  and  pass  it  on  behind  his  back.  It  was  great 
fun. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  stood  in  the  shad 
ows  and  glanced  across.  The  sentries  stood  like 
wooden  men,  but  something  was  wrong  in  the  court 
yard  inside.  The  guards  were  all  standing,  and  there 


DISGRACED  21 

seemed  to  be  a  great  many  of  them.  And  just  as  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  the  plunge,  so  to 
speak,  a  part  of  his  own  regiment  of  cavalry  came 
out  from  the  courtyard  with  a  thundering  of  hoofs, 
wheeled  at  the  street,  and  clattered  off. 

Very  unusual,  all  of  it. 

The  Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  felt  in 
his  pocket  for  his  handkerchief,  and,  moistening  a 
corner  with  his  tongue,  wiped  his  face.  Then  he 
wiped  his  shoes.  Then,  with  his  hands  in  his  trousers 
pockets,  he  sauntered  into  the  light. 

Now  sentries  are  trained  to  be  impassive.  The 
model  of  a  sentry  is  a  wooden  soldier.  A  really  good 
sentry  does  not  sneeze  or  cough  on  duty.  Did  any 
one  ever  see  a  sentry,  for  instance,  wipe  his  nose?  Or 
twirl  his  thumbs?  Or  buy  a  newspaper?  Certainly 
not. 

Therefore  the  two  sentries  made  no  sign  when  they 
saw  Ferdinand  William  Otto  approaching.  But  one 
of  them  forgot  to  bring  his  musket  to  salute.  He 
crossed  himself  instead.  And  something  strained 
around  the  other  sentry's  lower  jaw  suddenly  re 
laxed  into  a  smile  as  His  Royal  Highness  drew  a  hand 
from  its  refuge  and  saluted.  He  glanced  first  at  one, 
then  at  the  other,  rather  sheepishly,  hesitated  be 
tween  them,  clapped  his  hat  on  more  securely,  and 
marched  in. 

"The  young  rascal!"  said  the  second  sentry  to 
himself.  And  by  turning  his  head  slightly  —  for  a 
sentry  learns  to  see  all  around  like  a  horse,  without 


22  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

twisting  his  neck  —  he  watched  the  runaway  into  the 
palace. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  went  up  the  stone 
staircase.  Here  and  there  he  passed  guards  who 
stared  and  saluted.  Had  he  not  been  obsessed  with 
the  vision  of  Miss  Braithwaite,  he  would  have  known 
that  relief  followed  in  his  wake.  Messengers  clattered 
down  the  staircase  to  the  courtyard.  Other  mes 
sengers,  breathless  and  eager,  flew  to  that  lighted 
wing  where  the  Council  sat,  and  where  the  old  King, 
propped  up  in  bed,  waited  and  fought  terror. 

The  Archduchess  Annunciata  was  with  her  father. 
Across  the  corridor  the  Council  debated  in  low  tones. 

"Tell  me  again,"  said  the  King.  "How  in  God's 
name  could  it  have  happened?  In  daylight,  and 
with  all  of  you  there!" 

"  I  have  told  you  all  I  know,"  said  the  Archduch 
ess  impatiently.  "  One  moment  he  was  there.  Hed- 
wig  and  he  were  making  gestures,  and  I  reproved 
him.  The  next  he  was  gone.  Hedwig  saw  him  get  up 
and  go  out.  She  thought — " 

"Send  for  Hedwig." 

"She  has  retired.  She  was  devoted  to  him,  and —  " 

"Send  for  her,"  said  the  King  shortly. 

The  Archduchess  Annunciata  went  out.  The  old 
King  lay  back,  and  his  eyes,  weary  with  many  years 
of  ruling,  of  disappointments  and  bitterness,  roved 
the  room.  They  came  to  rest  at  last  on  the  photo 
graph  of  a  young  man,  which  stood  on  his  bedside 
table. 


DISGRACED  23 

He  was  a  very  young  man,  in  a  uniform.  He  was 
boyish,  and  smiling.  There  was  a  dog  beside  him,  and 
its  head  was  on  his  knee.  Wherever  one  stood  in  the 
room,  the  eyes  of  the  photograph  gazed  at  one.  The 
King  knew  this,  and  because  he  was  quite'old,  and 
because  there  were  few  people  to  whom  a  king  dares 
to  speak  his  inmost  thoughts,  he  frequently  spoke  to 
the  photograph. 

The  older  he  grew,  the  more  he  felt,  sometimes,  as 
though  it  knew  what  he  said.  He  had  begun  to  think 
that  death,  after  all,  is  not  the  end,  but  only  the  be 
ginning  of  things.  This  rather  worried  him,  too,  at 
times.  What  he  wanted  was  to  lay  things  down,  not 
to  take  them  up. 

"If  they've  got  him,"  he  said  to  the  picture,  "it 
is  out  of  my  hands,  and  into  yours,  my  boy." 

Much  of  his  life  had  been  spent  in  waiting,  in 
waiting  for  a  son,  in  waiting  for  that  son  to  grow  to 
be  a  man,  in  waiting  while  that  son  in  his  turn  loved 
and  married  and  begot  a  man-child,  in  waiting,  when 
that  son  had  died  a  violent  death,  for  the  time  when 
his  tired  hands  could  relinquish  the  scepter  to  his 
grandchild. 

He  folded  his  old  hands  and  waited.  From  across 
the  corridor  came  the  low  tones  of  the  Council.  A  si 
lent  group  of  his  gentlemen  stood  in  the  vestibule  out 
side  the  door.  The  King  lay  on  his  bed  and  waited. 

Quite  suddenly  the  door  opened.  The  old  man 
turned  his  head.  Just  inside  stood  a  very  dirty 
small  boy. 


24  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

The  Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was 
most  terribly  frightened.  Everything  was  at  sixes 
and  sevens.  Miss  Braithwaite  had  been  crying  her 
head  off,  and  on  seeing  him  had  fallen  in  a  faint.  Not 
that  he  thought  it  was  a  real  faint.  He  had  unmis 
takably  seen  her  eyelids  quiver.  And  when  she  came 
to  she  had  ordered  him  no  supper,  and  four  pages 
of  German  translation,  and  to  go  to  bed  at  seven 
o'clock  instead  of  seven-thirty  for  a  week.  All  the 
time  crying,  too.  And  then  she  had  sent  him  to  his 
grandfather,  and  taken  aromatic  ammonia. 

His  grandfather  said  nothing,  but  looked  at  him. 

"Here  —  here  I  am,  sir,"  said  the  Crown  Prince 
from  the  door. 

The  King  drew  a  long  breath.  But  the  silence  per 
sisted.  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  furtively 
rubbed  a  dusty  shoe  against  the  back  of  a  trousers 
leg. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not  very  neat,  sir,"  said  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto,  and  took  a  step  forward. 
Until  his  grandfather  commanded  him,  he  could  not 
advance  into  the  room. 

"Come  here,"  said  the  King. 

He  went  to  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"Where  have  you  been?" 

"I 'm  afraid  —  I  ran  away,  sir." 

"Why?" 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  considered.  It 
was  rather  an  awful  moment.  "I  don't  exactly 
know.  I  just  thought  I  would." 


DISGRACED  25 

You  see,  it  was  really  extremely  difficult.  To  say 
that  he  was  tired  of  things  as  they  were  would  sound 
ungrateful.  Would,  indeed,  be  most  impolite.  And 
then,  exactly  why  had  he  run  away? 

"Suppose,"  said  the  King,  "you  draw  up  a  chair 
and  tell  me  about  it.  We'd  better  talk  it  over,  I 
think." 

His  Royal  Highness  drew  up  a  chair,  and  sat  on 
it.  His  feet  not  reaching  the  floor,  he  hooked  them 
around  the  chair-rung.  This  was  permissible  be 
cause,  first,  the  King  could  not  see  them  from  his 
bed.  Second,  it  kept  his  knees  from  shaking. 

"Probably  you  are  aware,"  said  the  King,  "that 
you  have  alarmed  a  great  many  people." 

"  I  'm  sorry,  sir.    I  did  n't  think  —  " 

"A  prince's  duty  is  to  think." 

"Although,"  observed  His  Royal  Highness,  "I 
don't  really  believe  Miss  Braithwaite  fainted.  She 
may  have  thought  she  fainted,  but  her  eyelids 
moved." 

"Where  did  you  go?" 

"To  the  park,  sir.  I  —  I  thought  I 'd  like  to  see 
the  park  by  myself." 

"Goon." 

"It's  very  hard  to  enjoy  things  with  Miss  Braith 
waite,  sir.  She  does  not  really  enjoy  the  things  I  like. 
Nikkyandl— " 

"By  'Nikky'  you  mean  Lieutenant  Larisch?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Goon." 


26  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"We  like  the  same  things,  sir  —  the  Pike's-Peak- 
or-Bust,  and  all  that." 

The  King  raised  himself  on  his  elbow.  "What  was 
that?"  he  demanded. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  blushed,  and  ex 
plained.  It  was  Bobby's  name  for  the  peak  at  the 
top  of  the  Scenic  Railway.  He  had  been  on  the  rail 
way.  He  had  been  —  his  enthusiasm  carried  him 
away.  His  cheeks  flushed.  He  sat  forward  on  the 
edge  of  his  chair,  and  gesticulated.  He  had  never  had 
such  a  good  time  in  his  life. 

"I  was  awfully  happy,  sir,"  he  ended.  "It  feels 
like  flying,  only  safer.  And  the  lights  are  pretty.  It 's 
like  fairyland.  There  were  two  or  three  times  when 
it  seemed  as  if  we  'd  turn  over,  or  leap  the  track.  But 
we  did  n't." 

The  King  lay  back  and  thought.  More  than  any 
thing  in  the  world  he  loved  this  boy.  But  the  occa 
sion  demanded  a  strong  hand.  "You  were  happy," 
he  said.  "You  were  disobedient,  you  were  causing 
grave  anxiety  and  distress  —  and  you  were  happy ! 
The  first  duty  of  a  prince  is  to  his  country.  His  first 
lesson  is  to  obey  laws.  He  must  always  obey  certain 
laws.  A  king  is  but  the  servant  of  his  people." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto. 

The  old  King's  voice  was  stern.  "Some  day  you 
will  be  the  King.  You  are  being  trained  for  that  high 
office  now.  Arid  yet  you  would  set  the  example  of  in 
subordination,  disobedience,  and  reckless  disregard 
of  the  feelings  of  others." 


DISGRACED  27 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto, 
feeling  very  small  and  ashamed. 

"Not  only  that.  You  slipped  away.  You  did  not 
go  openly.  You  sneaked  off,  like  a  thief.  Are  you 
proud  of  it?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  I  shall,"  said  the  King,  "require  no  promise  from 
you.  Promises  are  poor  things  to  hold  to.  I  leave 
this  matter  in  your  own  hands,  Otto.  You  will  be 
punished  by  Miss  Braithwaite,  and  for  the  next  ten 
days  you  will  not  visit  me.  You  may  go  now." 

Otto  got  off  his  chair.  He  was  feeling  exceedingly 
crushed.  "Good-night,  sir,"  he  said.  And  waited  for 
his  grandfather  to  extend  his  hand.  But  the  old 
King  lay  looking  straight  ahead,  with  his  mouth  set 
in  grim  lines,  and  his  hands  folded  over  his  breast. 

At  the  door  the  Crown  Prince  turned  and  bowed. 
His  grandfather's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  two  gold 
eagles  over  the  door,  but  the  photograph  on  the  table 
appeared  to  be  smiling  at  him. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE   TERROR 

UNTIL  late  that  night  General  Mettlich  and  the  King 
talked  together.  The  King  had  been  lifted  from  his 
bed  and  sat  propped  in  a  great  chair.  Above  his 
shabby  dressing-gown  his  face  showed  gaunt  and 
old.  In  a  straight  chair  facing  him  sat  his  old  friend 
and  Chancellor. 

"What  it  has  shown  is  not  entirely  bad,"  said  the 
King,  after  a  pause.  "The  boy  has  initiative.  And 
he  made  no  attempt  at  evasion.  He  is  essentially 
truthful." 

"What  it  has  also  shown,  sire,  is  that  no  protec 
tion  is  enough.  When  I,  who  love  the  lad,  and  would 
—  when  I  could  sleep,  and  let  him  get  away,  as  I 
did—" 

"The  truth  is,"  said  the  King,  "we  are  both  of 
us  getting  old."  He  tapped  with  his  gnarled  fingers 
on  the  blanket  that  lay  over  his  knees.  "The  truth 
is  also,"  he  observed  a  moment  later,  "that  the 
boy  has  very  few  pleasures.  He  is  alone  a  great 
deal." 

General  Mettlich  raised  his  shaggy  head.  Many 
years  of  wearing  a  soldier's  cap  had  not  injured  his 
heavy  gray  hair.  He  had  bristling  eyebrows,  white 
now,  and  a  short,  fighting  mustache.  When  he  was 


THE  TERROR  29 

irritated,  or  disagreed  with  any  one,  his  eyebrows 
came  down  and  the  mustache  went  up. 

Many  years  of  association  with  his  king  had  given 
him  the  right  to  talk  to  him  as  man  to  man.  They 
even  quarreled  now  and  then.  It  was  a  brave  man 
who  would  quarrel  with  old  Ferdinand  II. 

So  now  his  eyebrows  came  down  and  his  mustache 
went  up.  "How  —  alone,  sire?" 

"You  do  not  regard  that  bigoted  Englishwoman 
as  a  companion,  do  you?" 

"He  is  attached  to  her." 

"I'm  damned  if  I  know  why,"  observed  the  old 
King.  "She  does  n't  appear  to  have  a  single  human 
quality." 

Human  quality!  General  Mettlich  eyed  his  king 
with  concern.  Since  when  had  the  reigning  family 
demanded  human  qualities  in  their  governesses? 
"She  is  a  thoughtful  and  conscientious  woman,  sire," 
he  said  stiffly.  It  happened  that  he  had  selected  her. 
' '  She  does  her  duty.  And  as  to  the  boy  being  lonely, 
he  has  no  time  to  be  lonely.  His  tutors  — " 

"How  old  is  he?" 

"Ten  next  month." 

The  King  said  nothing  for  a  time.  Then  —  "  It  is 
hard,"  he  said  at  last,  "for  seventy-four  to  see  with 
the  eyes  of  ten.  As  for  this  afternoon  —  why  in  the 
name  of  a  thousand  devils  did  they  take  him  to  see 
the  'Flying  Dutchman'?  I  detest  it." 

"Her  Royal  Highness  —  " 

"Annunciata  is  a  fool,"  said  His  Majesty.  Then, 


30  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

dismissing  his  daughter  with  a  gesture,  "We  don't 
know  how  to  raise  our  children  here,"  he  said  im 
patiently.  "The  English  do  better.  And  even  the 
Germans  — " 

It  is  not  etiquette  to  lower  one's  eyebrows  at  a 
king,  and  glare.  But  General  Mettlich  did  it.  He  was 
rather  a  poor  subject.  "The  Germans  have  not  our 
problem,  sire,"  he  said,  and  stuck  up  his  mustache. 

"I'm  not  going  to  raise  the  boy  a  prisoner,"  in 
sisted  the  King  stubbornly.  Kings  have  to  be  very 
stubborn  about  things.  So  many  people  disapprove 
of  the  things  they  want  to  do. 

Suddenly  General  Mettlich  bent  forward  and 
placed  a  hand  on  the  old  man's  knee.  "We  shall  do 
well,  sire,"  he  said  gravely,  "to  raise  the  boy  at  all." 

There  was  a  short  silence,  which  the  King  broke. 
"What  is  new?" 

"We  have  broken  up  the  University  meetings,  but 
I  fancy  they  go  on,  in  small  groups.  I  was  gratified, 
however,  to  observe  that  a  group  of  students  cheered 
His  Royal  Highness  yesterday  as  he  rode  past  the 
University  buildings." 

"Socialism  at  twenty,"  said  the  King,  "is  only  a 
symptom  of  the  unrest  of  early  adolescence.  Even 
Hubert " —  he  glanced  at  the  picture  — "was  touched 
with  it.  He  accused  me,  I  recall,  of  being  merely  an 
accident,  a  sort  of  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of 
advanced  thought!" 

He  smiled  faintly.  Then  he  sighed.  "And  the 
others?"  he  asked. 


THE  TERROR  31 

"The  outlying  districts  are  quiet.  So,  too,  is  the 
city.  Too  quiet,  sire." 

"They  are  waiting,  of  course,  for  my  death,"  said 
the  King  quietly.  "If  only  you  were  twenty  years 
younger  than  I  am,  it  would  be  better."  He  fixed  the 
General  with  shrewd  eyes.  "What  do  those  asses  of 
doctors  say  about  me?" 

"With  care,  sire—" 

"Come,  now.   This  is  no  time  for  evasion." 

"Even  at  the  best,  sire — "  He  looked  very  fe 
rocious,  and  cleared  his  throat.  He  was  terribly 
ashamed  that  his  voice  was  breaking.  "Even  at  the 
best,  but  of  course  they  can  only  give  an  opinion  —  " 

"Six  months?" 

"A  year,  sire." 

"And  at  the  worst!"  said  the  King,  with  a  grim 
smile.  Then,  following  his  own  line  of  thought: 
"But  the  people  love  the  boy,  I  think." 

"They  do.  It  is  for  that  reason,  sire,  that  I  advise 
particular  caution."  He  hesitated.  Then,  "Sire," 
he  said  earnestly,  "there  is  something  of  which  I 
must  speak.  The  Committee  of  Ten  has  organized 
again." 

Involuntarily  the  King  glanced  at  the  photograph 
on  the  table. 

"Forgive  me,  sire,  if  I  waken  bitter  memories. 
But  I  fear—" 

' '  You  fear  I ' '  said  the  King.  ' '  Since  when  have  you 
taken  to  fearing?" 

"  Nevertheless,  "maintained  General  Mettlich  dog- 


32  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING 

gedly,  "I  fear.  This  quiet  of  the  last  few  months 
alarms  me.  Dangerous  dogs  do  not  bark.  I  trust  no 
one.  The  very  air  is  full  of  sedition." 

The  King  twisted  his  blue-veined  old  hands  to 
gether,  but  his  voice  was  quiet.  "  But  why?"  he  de 
manded,  almost  fretfully.  "If  the  people  are  fond  of 
the  boy,  and  I  think  they  are,  to  —  to  carry  him  off, 
or  injure  him,  would  hurt  the  cause.  Even  the  Ter 
rorists,  in  the  name  of  a  republic,  can  do  nothing 
without  the  people." 

"The  mob  is  a  curious  thing,  sire.  You  have 
ruled  with  a  strong  hand.  Our  people  know  nothing 
but  to  obey  the  dominant  voice.  The  boy  out  of  the 
way,  the  prospect  of  the  Princess  Hedwig  on  the 
throne,  a  few  demagogues  in  the  public  squares  —  it 
would  be  the  end." 

The  King  leaned  back  and  closed  his  eyes.  His 
thin,  arched  nose  looked  pinched.  His  face  was  gray. 

"All  this,"  he  said,  "means  what?  To  make  the 
boy  a  prisoner,  to  cut  off  his  few  pleasures,  and  even 
then,  at  any  time — " 

"Yes,  sire,"  said  Mettlich  doggedly.  "At  any 
time." 

Outside  in  the  anteroom  Lieutenant  Nikky  Larisch 
roused  himself,  yawned,  and  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
was  after  twelve,  and  he  had  had  a  hard  day.  He 
put  a  velvet  cushion  behind  his  head,  and  resolutely 
composed  himself  to  slumber,  a  slumber  in  which 
were  various  rosy  dreams,  all  centered  about  the 
Princess  Hedwig.  Dreams  are  beyond  our  control. 


THE  TERROR  33 

Therefore  a  young  lieutenant  running  into  debt  on  his 
pafry  may  without  presumption  dream  of  a  princess. 

All  through  the  Palace  people  were  sleeping. 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  asleep,  and  rid 
ing  again  the  little  car  in  the  Land  of  Delight.  So 
that,  turning  a  corner  sharply,  he  almost  fell  out  of 
bed. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  city  the  little  American 
boy  was  asleep  also.  At  that  exact  time  he  was  be 
ing  tucked  up  by  an  entirely  efficient  and  placid- 
eyed  American  mother,  who  felt  under  his  head  to 
see  that  his  ear  was  not  turned  forward.  She  liked 
close-fitting  ears. 

Nobody,  naturally,  was  tucking  up  Prince  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto.  Or  attending  to  his  ears.  But, 
of  course,  there  were  sentries  outside  his  door,  and  a 
valet  de  chambre  to  be  rung  for,  and  a  number  of  em 
broidered  eagles  scattered  about  on  the  curtains  and 
things,  and  a  country  surrounding  him  which  would 
one  day  be  his,  unless  — 

"At  any  time,"  said  General  Mettlich,  and  was 
grimly  silent. 

It  was  really  no  time  for  such  a  speech.  But  there 
is  never  a  good  time  for  bad  news. 

"Well?"  inquired  the  King,  after  a  time.  "You 
have  something  to  suggest,  I  take  it." 

The  old  soldier  cleared  his  throat.  "Sire,"  he  be 
gan,  "it  is  said  that  a  chancellor  should  have  but 
one  passion :  his  King.  I  have  two :  my  King  and  my 
country." 


34  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

The  King  nodded  gravely.  He  knew  both  pas 
sions,  relied  on  both.  And  found  them  both  a  bit 
troublesome  at  times! 

"Once,  some  years  ago,  sire,  I  came  to  you  with  a 
plan.  The  Princess  Hedwig  was  a  child  then,  and 
his  late  Royal  Highness  was — still  with  us.  For  that, 
and  for  other  reasons,  Your  Majesty  refused  to  lis 
ten.  But  things  have  changed.  Between  us  and  rev 
olution  there  stand  only  the  frail  life  of  a  boy  and  an 
army  none  too  large,  and  already,  perhaps,  affected. 
There  is  much  discontent,  and  the  offspring  of  dis 
content  is  anarchy." 

The  King  snarled.  But  Mettlich  had  taken  his 
courage  in  his  hands,  and  went  on.  Their  neighbor 
and  hereditary  foe  was  Karnia.  Could  they  any 
longer  afford  the  enmity  of  Karnia?  One  cause  of 
discontent  was  the  expense  of  the  army,  and  of  the 
fortifications  along  the  Karnian  border.  If  Karnia 
were  allied  with  them,  there  would  be  no  need  of  so 
great  an  army.  They  had  the  mineral  wealth,  and 
Karnia  the  seaports.  The  old  dream  of  the  Empire, 
of  a  railway  to  the  sea,  wrould  be  realized. 

He  pleaded  well.  The  idea  was  not  new.  To  place 
the  little  King  Otto  IX  on  the  throne  and  keep  him 
there  in  the  face  of  opposition  would  require  support 
from  outside.  Karnia  would  furnish  this  support. 
For  a  price. 

The  price  was  the  Princess  Hedwig. 

Outside,  Nikky  Larisch  rose,  stretched,  and  fell  to 
pacing  the  floor.  It  was  one  o'clock,  and  the  palace 


THE  TERROR  35 

slept.  He  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  stepping  out  into 
a  small  balcony  which  overlooked  the  Square,  faced 
the  quiet  night. 

"That  is  my  plea,  sire,"  Mettlich  finished.  "Karl 
of  Karnia  is  anxious  to  marry,  and  looks  this  way. 
To  allay  discontent  and  growing  insurrection,  to  in 
sure  the  boy's  safety  and  his  throne,  to  beat  our 
swords  into  ploughshares"  -here  he  caught  the 
King's  scowl,  and  added-  "to  a  certain  extent, 
and  to  make  us  a  commercial  as  well  as  a  military 
nation,  surely,  sire,  it  gains  much  for  us,  and  loses 
us  nothing." 

"But  our  independence!"  said  the  King  sourly. 

However,  he  did  not  dismiss  the  idea.  The  fright 
of  the  afternoon  had  weakened  him,  and  if  Mettlich 
were  right  —  he  had  what  the  King  considered  a  per 
fectly  damnable  habit  of  being  right  —  the  Royal 
ist  party  would  need  outside  help  to  maintain  the 
throne. 

"Karnia!"  he  said.  "The  lion  and  the  lamb,  with 
the  lamb  inside  the  lion !  And  in  the  mean  time  the 
boy—" 

"He  should  be  watched  always." 

"The  old  she-dragon,  the  governess —  I  suppose 
she  is  trustworthy?" 

"Perfectly.   But  she  is  a  woman." 

"He  has  Lussin."  Count  Lussin  was  the  Crown 
Prince's  aide-de-camp. 

"He  needs  a  man,  sire,"  observed  the  Chancellor 
rather  tartly. 


36  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

The  King  cleared  his  throat.  "This  youngster  he 
is  so  fond  of,  young  Larisch,  would  he  please  you 
better?"  he  asked,  with  ironic  deference. 

"A  good  boy,  sire.  You  may  recall  that  his 
mother  — : '  He  stopped. 

Perhaps  the  old  King's  memory  was  good.  Per 
haps  there  was  a  change  in  Mettlich's  voice. 

"A  good  boy?" 

"None  better,  sire.  He  is  devoted  to  His  Royal 
Highness.  He  is  still  much  of  a  lad  himself.  I  have 
listened  to  them  talking.  It  is  a  question  which  is 
the  older!  He  is  outside  now." 

"Bring  him  in.    I'll  have  a  look  at  him." 

Nikky,  summoned  by  a  chamberlain,  stopped  in 
side  the  doorway  and  bowed  deeply. 

"Come  here,"  said  the  King. 

He  advanced. 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Twenty-three,  sire." 

"In  the  Grenadiers,  I  believe." 

Nikky  bowed. 

"Like  horses?"  said  the  King  suddenly. 

"Very  much,  sire." 

"And  boys?" 

"I  —  some  boys,  sire." 

"Humph!  Quite  right,  too.  Little  devils,  most 
of  them."  He  drew  himself  up  in  his  chair.  "Lieu 
tenant  Larisch,"  he  said,  "His  Royal  Highness  the 
Crown  Prince  has  taken  a  liking  to  you.  I  believe  it 
is  to  you  that  our  fright  to-day  is  due." 


THE,  TERROR  37 

Nikky's  heart  thumped.  He  went  rather  pale. 

"It  is  my  intention,  Lieutenant  Larisch,  to  place 
the  Crown  Prince  in  your  personal  charge.  For  rea 
sons  I  need  not  go  into,  it  is  imperative  that  he  take 
no  more  excursions  alone.  These  are  strange  times, 
when  sedition  struts  in  Court  garments,  and  kings 
may  trust  neither  their  armies  nor  their  subjects. 
I  want,"  he  said,  his  tone  losing  its  bitterness,  "a 
real  friend  for  the  little  Crown  Prince.  One  who  is 
both  brave  and  loyal." 

Afterward,  in  his  small  room,  Nikky  composed  a 
neat,  well-rounded  speech,  in  which  he  expressed 
his  loyalty,  gratitude,  and  undying  devotion  to  the 
Crown  Prince.  It  was  an  elegant  little  speech.  Un 
luckily,  the  occasion  for  it  had  gone  by  two  hours. 

"I  —  I  am  grateful,  sire,"  was  what  he  said. 
"I — "  And  there  he  stopped  and  choked  up.  It 
was  rather  dreadful. 

"I  depend  on  you,  Captain  Larisch,"  said  the 
King  gravely,  and  nodded  his  head  in  a  gesture  of 
dismissal.  Nikky  backed  toward  the  door,  struck 
a  hassock,  all  but  went  down,  bowed  again  at  the 
door,  and  fled. 

"A  fine  lad,"  said  General  Mettlich,  "but  no 
talker." 

"All  the  better,"  replied  His  Majesty.  "  I  am  tired 
of  men  who  talk  well.  And"  —  he  smiled  faintly  — 
"I  am  tired  of  you.  You  talk  too  well.  You  make 
me  think.  I  don't  want  to  think.  I  've  been  think 
ing  all  my  life.  It  is  time  to  rest,  my  friend." 


CHAPTER  V 

AT  THE   RIDING-SCHOOL 

His  Royal  Highness  the  Crown  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  was  in  disgrace. 

He  had  risen  at  six,  bathed,  dressed,  and  gone  to 
Mass,  in  disgrace.  He  had  breakfasted  at  seven- 
thirty  on  fruit,  cereal,  and  one  egg,  in  disgrace.  He 
had  gone  to  his  study  at  eight  o'clock  for  lessons,  in 
disgrace.  A  long  line  of  tutors  came  and  went  all 
morning,  and  he  worked  diligently,  but  he  was  still  in 
disgrace.  All  morning  long  and  in  the  intervals 
between  tutors  he  had  tried  to  catch  Miss  Braith- 
waite's  eye. 

Except  for  the  most  ordinary  civilities,  she  had  re 
fused  to  look  in  his  direction.  She  was  correcting  an 
essay  in  English  on  Mr.  Gladstone,  with  a  blue  pen 
cil,  and  putting  in  blue  commas  every  here  and  there. 
The  Crown  Prince  was  amazingly  weak  in  commas. 
When  she  was  all  through,  she  piled  the  sheets  to 
gether  and  wrote  a  word  on  the  first  page.  It  might 
have  been  "good."  On  the  other  hand,  it  could  easily 
have  been  "poor."  The  motions  of  the  hand  are 
similar. 

At  last,  in  desperation,  the  Crown  Prince  deliber 
ately  broke  off  the  point  of  his  pencil,  and  went  to 
the  desk  where  Miss  Braithwaite  sat,  monarch  of  the 


AT  THE  RIDING-SCHOOL  39 

American  pencil-sharpener  which  was  the  beloved 
of  his  heart. 

"Again!"  said  Miss  Braithwaite  shortly.  And 
raised  her  eyebrows. 

"It's  a  very  soft  pencil,"  explained  the  Crown 
Prince.  "When  I  press  down  on  it,  it  —  it  busts." 

"It  what?" 

"It  busts  —  breaks."  Evidently  the  English  peo 
ple  were  not  familiar  with  this  new  and  fascinating 
American  word. 

He  cast  a  casual  glance  toward  Mr.  Gladstone. 
The  word  was  certainly  "poor."  Suddenly  a  sense  of 
injustice  began  to  rise  in  him.  He  had  worked  rather 
hard  over  Mr.  Gladstone.  He  had  done  so  because 
he  knew  that  Miss  Braithwaite  considered  him  the 
greatest  man  since  Jesus  Christ,  and  even  the  Christ 
had  not  written  "The  Influence  of  Authority  in 
Matters  of  Opinion." 

The  injustice  went  to  his  eyes  and  made  him 
blink.  He  had  apologized  for  yesterday,  and  ex 
plained  fully.  It  was  not  fair.  As  to  commas,  any 
body  could  put  in  enough  commas. 

The  French  tutor  was  standing  near  a  photograph 
of  Hedwig,  and  pretending  not  to  look  at  it.  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  a  suspicion  that  the 
tutor  was  in  love  with  Hedwig.  On  one  occasion, 
when  she  had  entered  unexpectedly,  he  had  certainly 
given  out  the  sentence,  "  Ce  dragon  etait  le  vieux  ser 
pent,  la  princesse"  instead  of  "  Cc  dragon  etait  le 
vieux  serpent,  le  roi." 


40  LONG  LIVE  "THE  KING! 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  did  not  like  the 
French  tutor.  His  being  silly  about  Hedwig  was  not 
the  reason.  Even  Nikky  had  that  trouble,  and  once, 
when  they  were  all  riding  together,  had  said,  "Canter 
on  the  snaffle,  trot  on  the  curb,"  when  he  meant  ex 
actly  the  opposite.  It  was  not  that.  Part  of  it  was 
because  of  his  legs,  which  were  inclined  to  knock  at 
the  knees.  Mostly  it  was  his  eyes,  which  protruded. 
"When  he  reads  my  French  exercises,"  he  com 
plained  once  to  Hedwig,  "he  waves  them  around 
like  an  ant's." 

He  and  Hedwig  usually  spoke  English  together. 
Like  most  royalties,  they  had  been  raised  on  lan 
guages.  It  was  as  much  as  one's  brains  were  worth, 
sometimes,  to  try  to  follow  them  as  they  leaped  from 
grammar  to  grammar. 

"Like  an  aunt's?"  inquired  Hedwig,  mystified. 

"An  ant's.  They  have  eyes  on  the  ends  of  their 
feelers,  you  know." 

But  Miss  Braithwaite,  overhearing,  had  said  that 
ants  have  no  eyes  at  all.  She  had  no  imagination. 

His  taste  of  liberty  had  spoiled  the  Crown  Prince 
for  work.  Instead  of  conjugating  a  French  verb,  he 
made  a  sketch  of  the  Scenic  Railway.  He  drew  the 
little  car,  and  two  heads  looking  over  the  edge,  with 
a  sort  of  porcupine  effect  of  hairs  standing  straight 
up. 

"Otto!"  said  Miss  Braithwaite  sternly. 

Miss  Braithwaite  did  not  say  "sir"  to  him  or 
"Your  Royal  Highness,"  like  the  tutors.  She  had 


AT  THE  RIDING-SCHOOL  41 

taken  him  from  the  arms  of  his  mother  when  he  was 
a  baby,  and  had  taught  a  succession  of  nurses  how 
to  fix  his  bottles,  and  made  them  raise  the  windows 
when  he  slept,  which  was  heresy  in  that  country,  and 
was  brought  up  for  discussion  in  the  Parliament. 
When  it  came  time  for  his  first  tooth,  and  he  was 
wickedly  fretful,  and  the  doctors  had  a  consultation 
over  him,  it  was  Miss  Braithwaite  who  had  ignored 
everything  they  said,  and  rubbed  the  tooth  through 
with  her  silver  thimble.  Boiled  first,  of  course. 

And  when  one  has  cut  a  Royal  Highness's  first 
tooth,  and  broken  him  of  sucking  his  thumb,  and 
held  a  cold  buttered  knife  against  his  bruises  to  pre 
vent  their  discoloring,  one  does  get  out  of  the  way 
of  being  very  formal  with  him. 

"Otto!"  said  Miss  Braithwaite  sternly. 

So  he  went  to  work  in  earnest.  He  worked  at  a 
big  desk,  which  had  been  his  father's.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  everything  in  the  room  was  too  big  for  him.  It 
had  not  occurred  to  any  one  to  make  any  conces 
sions  to  his  size.  He  went  through  life,  one  may  say, 
with  his  legs  dangling,  or  standing  on  tiptoe  to  see 
things. 

The  suite  had  been  his  father's  before  him.  Even 
the  heavy  old  rug  had  been  worn  shabby  by  the 
scuffing  of  his  father's  feet.  On  the  wall  there  hung 
a  picture  his  father  had  drawn.  It  was  of  a  yacht 
in  full  sail.  Prince  Hubert  had  been  fifteen  when 
he  drew  it,  and  was  contemplating  abandoning  his 
princely  career  and  running  away  to  be  a  pirate.  As 


42  LONG   LIVE  THE  KING! 

a  matter  of  fact,  the  yacht  boasted  the  black  flag,  as 
Otto  knew  quite  well.  Nikky  had  discovered  it.  But 
none  of  the  grown-ups  had  recognized  the  damning 
fact.  Nikky  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  grown-up. 

The  sun  came  through  the  deep  embrasures  of  the 
window  and  set  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto's 
feet  to  wriggling.  It  penetrated  the  gloomy  fast 
nesses  of  the  old  room  and  showed  its  dingy  furniture, 
its  great  desk,  its  dark  velvet  portieres,  and  the  old 
cabinet  in  which  the  Crown  Prince  kept  his  toys  on 
the  top  shelf.  He  had  arranged  them  there  himself, 
the  ones  he  was  fondest  of  in  the  front  row,  so  he 
could  look  up  and  see  them;  a  drum  which  he  still 
dearly  loved,  but  which  made  Miss  Braithwaite's 
head  ache;  a  locomotive  with  a  broken  spring;  a 
steam-engine  which  Hedwig  had  given  him,  but 
which  the  King  considered  dangerous,  and  which 
had  never,  therefore,  had  its  baptism  of  fire;  and  a 
dilapidated  and  lop-eared  cloth  dog. 

He  was  exceedingly  fond  of  the  dog.  For  quite  a 
long  time  he  had  taken  it  to  bed  with  him  at  night, 
and  put  its  head  on  his  pillow.  It  was  the  most  com 
forting  thing,  when  the  lights  were  all  out.  Until  he 
was  seven  he  had  been  allowed  a  bit  of  glimmer,  a 
tiny  wick  floating  in  a  silver  dish  of  lard -oil,  for  a 
night-light.  But  after  his  eighth  birthday  that  had 
been  done  away  with,  Miss  Braithwaite  considering 
it  babyish. 

The  sun  shone  in  on  the  substantial  but  cheer 
less  room;  on  the  picture  of  the  Duchess  Hedwig, 


AT  THE  RIDING-SCHOOL  43 

untouched  by  tragedy  or  grief;  on  the  heavy,  paneled 
old  doors  through  which,  once  on  a  time,  Prince  Hu 
bert  had  made  his  joyous  exits  into  a  world  that  had 
so  early  cast  him  out ;  on  his  swords,  crossed  over  the 
fireplace;  his  light  rapier,  his  heavy  cavalry  saber; 
on  the  bright  head  of  his  little  son,  around  whom 
already  so  many  plots  and  counterplots  were  cen 
tering. 

The  Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  found 
the  sun  unsettling.  Besides,  he  hated  verbs.  Nouns 
were  different.  One  could  do  something  with  nouns, 
although  even  they  had  a  way  of  having  genders. 
Into  his  head  popped  a  recollection  of  a  delightful 
pastime  of  the  day  before  —  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  flipping  paper  wads  at  the  guard  on  the  Scenic 
Railway  as  the  car  went  past  him. 
-  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  tore  off  the  corner 
of  a  piece  of  paper,  chewed  it  deliberately,  rounded 
and  hardened  it  with  his  royal  fingers,  and  aimed  it 
at  M.  Puaux.  It  struck  him  in  the  eye. 

Instantly  things  happened.  M.  Puaux  yelled,  and 
clapped  a  hand  to  his  eye.  Miss  Braithwaite  rose. 
His  Royal  Highness  wrote  a  rather  shaky  French 
verb,  with  the  wrong  termination.  And  on  to  this 
scene  came  Nikky  for  the  riding-lesson.  Nikky,  smil 
ing  and  tidy,  and  very  shiny  as  to  riding-boots  and 
things,  and  wearing  white  kid  gloves.  Every  one 
about  a  palace  wears  white  kid  gloves,  except  the 
royalties  themselves.  It  is  extremely  expensive. 

Nikky  surveyed  the  scene.    He  had,  of  course, 


44  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

bowed  inside  the  door,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
But  Nikky  was  an  informal  person,  and  was  quite 
apt  to  bow  deeply  before  his  future  sovereign,  and 
then  poke  him  in  the  chest. 

"Well!"  said  Nikky. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto,  in  a  small  and  nervous  voice. 

"Nothing  wrong,  is  there?"  demanded  Nikky. 

M.  Puauxgot  out  his  handkerchief  and  said  noth 
ing  violently. 

"Otto!"  said  Miss  Braithwaite.  "What  did  you 
do?" 

"Nothing."  He  looked  about.  He  was  quite  con 
vinced  that  M.  Puaux  was  what  Bobby  would  have 
termed  a  poor  sport,  and  had  not  played  the  game 
fairly.  The  guard  at  the  railway,  he  felt,  would  not 
have  yelled  and  wept.  "Oh,  well,  I  threw  a  piece  of 
paper.  That's  all.  I  did  n't  think  it  would  hurt." 

Miss  Braithwaite  rose  and  glanced  at  the  carpet. 
But  Nikky  was  quick.  Quick  and  understanding. 
He  put  his  shiny  foot  over  the  paper  wad. 

"Paper!"  said  Miss  Braithwaite.  "Why  did  you 
throw  paper?  And  at  M.  Puaux?" 

"I  —  just  felt  like  throwing  something,"  ex 
plained  His  Royal  Highness.  "I  guess  it's  the  sun, 
or  something." 

Nikky  dropped  his  glove,  and  miraculously,  when 
he  had  picked  it  up  the  little  wad  was  gone. 

"For  throwing  paper,  five  marks,"  said  Miss 
Braithwaite,  and  put  it  down  in  the  book  she  carried 


AT  THE  RIDING-SCHOOL  45 

in  her  pocket.  It  was  rather  an  awful  book.  On 
Saturdays  the  King  looked  it  over,  and  demanded 
explanations:  "For  untidy  nails,  five  marks!  A 
gentleman  never  has  untidy  nails,  Otto.  For  ob 
jecting  to  winter  flannels,  two  marks.  Humph! 
For  pocketing  sugar  from  the  tea-tray,  ten  marks ! 
Humph!  For  lack  of  attention  during  religious  in 
struction,  five  marks.  Ten  off  for  the  sugar,  and 
only  five  for  inattention  to  religious  instruction! 
What  have  you  to  say,  sir?" 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  looked  at  Nikky 
and  Nikky  looked  back.  Then  Ferdinand  William 
Otto's  left  eyelid  drooped.  Nikky  was  astounded. 
How  was  he  to  know  the  treasury  of  strange  things 
that  the  Crown  Prince  had  tapped  the  previous 
afternoon?  But,  after  a  glance  around  the  room, 
Nikky's  eyelid  drooped  also.  He  slid  the  paper  wad 
into  his  pocket. 

"I  am  afraid  His  Royal  Highness  has  hurt  your 
eye,  M.  Puaux,"  said  Miss  Braithwaite.  Not  with 
sympathy.  She  hated  tutors. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  unhappy  young  man,  test 
ing  the  eye  to  discover  if  he  could  see  through  it. 
"I  am  sure  His  Royal  Highness  meant  no  harm." 
M.  Puaux  went  out,  with  his  handkerchief  to  his 
eye.  He  turned  at  the  door  and  bowed,  but  as  no 
one  was  paying  any  attention  to  him,  he  made  two 
bows.  One  was  to  Hedwig's  picture. 

While  Oskar,  his  valet,  put  the  Crown  Prince  into 
riding-clothes,  Nikky  and  Miss  Braithwaite  had  a 


46  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

talk.  Nikky  was  the  only  person  to  whom  Miss 
Braithwaite  really  unbent.  Once  he  had  written  to  a 
friend  of  his  in  China,  and  secured  for  her  a  large  box 
of  the  best  China  tea.  Miss  Braithwaite  only  brewed 
it  when  the  Archduchess  made  one  of  her  rare  visits 
to  the  Crown  Prince's  apartment. 

But  just  now  their  talk  was  very  serious.  It  began 
by  Nikky's  stating  that  she  was  likely  to  see  him  a 
great  deal  now,  and  he  hoped  she  would  not  find  him 
in  the  way.  He  had  been  made  aide-de-camp  to  the 
Crown  Prince,  vice  Count  Lussin,  who  had  resigned 
on  account  of  illness,  having  been  roused  at  day 
break  out  of  a  healthy  sleep  to  do  it. 

Not  that  Nikky  said  just  that.  What  he  really  ob 
served  was:  "The  King  sent  for  me  last  night,  Miss 
Braithwaite,  and  —  and  asked  me  to  hang  around." 

Thus  Nikky,  of  his  sacred  trust!  None  the  less 
sacred  to  him,  either,  that  he  spoke  lightly.  He 
glanced  up  at  the  crossed  swords,  and  his  eyes  were 
hard. 

And  Miss  Braithwaite  knew.  She  reached  over 
and  put  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "You  and  I,"  she  said. 
"Outof  all  the  people  in  this  palace,  only  you  and  I ! 
The  Archduchess  hates  him.  I  see  it  in  her  eyes. 
She  can  never  forgive  him  for  keeping  the  throne 
from  Hedwig.  The  Court?  Do  they  ever  think  of 
the  boy,  except  to  dread  his  minority,  with  Mettlich 
in  control?  A  long  period  of  mourning,  a  regency, 
no  balls,  no  gayety  —  that  is  all  they  think  of.  And 
whom  can  we  trust?  The  very  guards  down  below, 


AT  THE  RIDING-SCHOOL  47 

the  sentries  at  our  doors,  how  do  we  know  they  are 
loyal?" 

"The  people  love  him,"  said  Nikky  doggedly. 

"The  people!  Sheep.  I  do  not  trust  the  people.  I 
do  not  trust  any  one.  I  watch,  but  what  can  I  do? 
The  very  food  we  eat  — ' 

"He  is  coming,"  said  Nikky  softly.  And  fell  to 
whistling  under  his  breath. 

Together  Nikky  and  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  went  out  and  down  the  great  marble  staircase. 
Sentries  saluted.  Two  flunkies  in  scarlet  and  gold 
threw  open  the  doors.  A  stray  dog  that  had  wan 
dered  into  the  courtyard  watched  them  gravely. 

"I  wish,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto, 
"that  I  might  have  a  dog." 

"A  dog!  Why?" 

"Well,  it  would  be  company.  Dogs  are  very 
friendly.  Yesterday  I  met  a  boy  who  has  a  dog.  It 
sleeps  on  his  bed  at  night." 

"You  have  a  good  many  things,  you  know," 
Nikky  argued.  "  You've  got  a  dozen  horses,  for  one 
thing." 

"But  a  dog's  different."  He  felt  the  difference, 
but  he  could  not  put  it  into  words.  "And  I  'd  rather 
have  only  one  horse.  I  'd  get  better  acquainted  with 
it." 

Nikky  looked  back.  Although  it  had  been  the 
boast  of  the  royal  family  for  a  century  that  it  could 
go  about  unattended,  that  its  only  danger  was  from 
the  overzeal  of  the  people  in  showing  their  loyalty, 


48  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

not  since  the  death  of  Prince  Hubert  had  this  been 
true  in  fact.  No  guards  or  soldiers  accompanied 
them,  but  the  secret  police  were  always  near  at  hand. 
So  Nikky  looked,  made  sure  that  a  man  in  civilian 
clothing  was  close  at  their  heels,  and  led  the  way 
across  the  Square  to  the  riding-school. 

A  small  crowd  lined  up  and  watched  the  passing 
of  the  little  Prince.  As  he  passed,  men  lifted  their 
hats  and  women  bowed.  He  smiled  right  and  left, 
and  took  two  short  steps  to  one  of  Nikky's  long 
ones. 

"I  have  a  great  many  friends,"  he  said  with  a 
sigh  of  content,  as  they  neared  the  riding-school. 
"  I  suppose  I  don't  really  need  a  dog." 

"Look  here,"  said  Nikky,  after  a  pause.  He  was 
not  very  quick  in  thinking  things  out.  He  placed, 
as  a  fact,  more  reliance  on  his  right  arm  than  on  his 
brain.  But  once  he  had  thought  a  thing  out,  it  stuck. 
"  Look  here,  Highness,  you  did  n't  treat  your  friends 
very  well  yesterday." 

"I  know,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto 
meekly.  But  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had 
thought  out  a  defense.  "  I  got  back  all  right,  did  n't 
I?"  He  considered.  "It  was  worth  it.  A  policeman 
shook  me!" 

"Which  policeman?"  demanded  Nikky  in  a  terri 
ble  tone,  and  in  his  fury  quite  forgot  the  ragging  he 
had  prepared  for  Otto. 

"  I  think  I  '11  not  tell  you,  if  you  don't  mind.  And 
I  bought  a  fig  lady.  I  Ve  saved  the  legs  for  you." 


AT  THE  RIDING-SCHOOL  49 

Fortune  smiled  on  Nikky  that  day.  Had,  indeed, 
been  smiling  daily  for  some  three  weeks.  Singularly 
enough,  the  Princess  Hedwig,  who  had  been  placed 
on  a  pony  at  the  early  age  of  two,  and  who  had  been 
wont  to  boast  that  she  could  ride  any  horse  in  her 
grandfather's  stables,  was  taking  riding-lessons. 
From  twelve  to  one  —  which  was,  also  singularly, 
the  time  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  and  Nikky 
rode  in  the  ring  —  the  Princess  Hedwig  rode  also. 
Rode  divinely.  Rode  saucily.  Rode,  when  Nikky 
was  ahead,  tenderly. 

To  tell  the  truth,  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto 
rather  hoped,  this  morning,  that  Hedwig  would  not 
be  there.  There  was  a  difference  in  Nikky  when 
Hedwig  was  around.  When  she  was  not  there  he 
would  do  all  sorts  of  things,  like  jumping  on  his 
horse  while  it  was  going,  and  riding  backward  in  the 
saddle,  and  so  on.  He  had  once  even  tried  jumping 
on  his  horse  as  it  galloped  past  him,  and  missed,  and 
had  been  awfully  ashamed  about  it.  But  when  Hed 
wig  was  there,  there  was  no  skylarking.  They  rode 
around,  and  the  riding-master  put  up  jumps  and  they 
took  them.  And  finally  Hedwig  would  get  tired, 
and  ask  Nikky  please  to  be  amusing  while  she  rested. 
And  he  would  not  be  amusing  at  all.  The  Crown 
Prince  felt  that  she  never  really  saw  Nikky  at  his 
best. 

Hedwig  was  there.  She  had  on  a  new  habit,  and 
a  gardenia  in  her  buttonhole,  and  she  gave  Nikky  her 
hand  to  kiss,  but  only  nodded  to  the  Crown  Prince. 


50  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

"Hello,  Otto!"  she  said.  "I  thought  you'd  have 
a  ball  and  chain  on  your  leg  to-day." 

"There's  nothing  wrong  with  my  legs,"  said 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  staring  at  the  new 
habit.  "But  yours  look  rather  queer." 

Hedwig  flushed.  The  truth  was  that  she  was  wear 
ing,  for  the  first  time,  a  cross-saddle  habit  of  coat 
and  trousers.  And  coat  and  trousers  were  forbidden 
to  the  royal  women.  She  eyed  Otto  with  defiance, 
and  turned  an  appealing  glance  to  Nikky.  But  her 
voice  was  very  dignified. 

"I  bought  them  myself,"  she  said.  "  I  consider  it 
a  perfectly  modest  costume,  and  much  safer  than 
the  other." 

"It  is  quite  lovely  —  on  you,  Highness,"  said 
Nikky. 

In  a  stiff  chair  at  the  edge  of  the  ring  Hedwig's 
lady  in  waiting  sat  resignedly.  She  was  an  elderly 
woman,  and  did  not  ride.  Just  now  she  was  ab 
sorbed  in  wondering  what  would  happen  to  her 
when  the  Archduchess  discovered  this  new  freak 
of  Hedwig's.  Perhaps  she  would  better  ask  per 
mission  to  go  into  retreat  for  a  time.  The  Arch 
duchess,  who  had  no  religion  herself,  approved 
of  it  in  others.  She  took  a  soft  rubber  from  her 
pocket,  and  tried  to  erase  a  spot  from  her  white  kid 
gloves. 

The  discovery  that  Hedwig  had  two  perfectly 
good  legs  rather  astounded  Prince  Ferdinand  Wil 
liam  Otto.  He  felt  something  like  consternation. 


AT  THE  RIDING-SCHOOL  51 

"I've  never  seen  any  one  else  dressed  like  that," 
he  observed,  as  the  horses  were  brought  up. 

Hedwig  colored  again.  She  looked  like  an  ab 
surdly  pretty  boy.  "Don't  be  a  silly,"  she  replied, 
rather  sharply.  "Every  one  does  it,  except  here, 
where  old  fossils  refuse  to  think  that  anything  new 
can  be  proper.  If  you  're  going  to  be  that  sort  of  a 
king  when  you  grow  up,  I'll  go  somewhere  else  to 
live." 

Nikky  looked  gloomy.  The  prospect,  although 
remote,  was  dreary.  But,  as  the  horses  were  led  out, 
and  he  helped  Hedwig  to  her  saddle,  he  brightened. 
After  all,  the  future  was  the  future,  and  now  was 
now. 

"Catch  me!"  said  Hedwig,  and  dug  her  royal 
heels  into  her  horse's  flanks.  The  Crown  Prince 
climbed  into  his  saddle  and  followed.  They  were 
off. 

The  riding-school  had  been  built  for  officers  of  the 
army,  but  was  now  used  by  the  Court  only.  Here 
the  King  had  ridden  as  a  lad  with  young  Mettlich, 
his  close  friend  even  then.  The  favorite  mare  of  his 
later  years,  now  old  and  almost  blind,  still  had  a 
stall  in  the  adjacent  royal  stables.  One  of  the  King's 
last  excursions  abroad  had  been  to  visit  her. 

Overhead,  up  a  great  runway,  were  the  state 
chariots,  gilt  coaches  of  inconceivable  weight,  trav 
eling  carriages  of  the  post-chaise  periods,  sleighs  in 
which  four  horses  drove  abreast,  their  panels  painted 
by  the  great  artists  of  the  time;  and  one  plain  little 


52  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

vehicle,  very  shabby,  in  which  the  royal  children  of 
long  ago  had  fled  from  a  Karnian  invasion. 

In  one  corner,  black  and  gold  and  forbidding,  was 
the  imposing  hearse  in  which  the  dead  sovereigns  of 
the  country  were  taken  to  their  long  sleep  in  the 
vaults  under  the  cathedral.  Good,  bad,  and  indif 
ferent,  one  after  the  other,  as  their  hour  came,  they 
had  taken  this  last  journey  in  the  old  catafalque,  and 
had  joined  their  forbears.  Many  they  had  been: 
men  of  iron,  men  of  blood,  men  of  flesh,  men  of  water. 
And  now  they  lay  in  stone  crypts,  and  of  all  the  line 
only  two  remained. 

One  and  all,  the  royal  vehicles  were  shrouded  in 
sheets,  except  on  one  day  of  each  month  when  the 
sheets  were  removed  and  the  public  admitted.  But 
on  that  morning  the  great  hearse  was  uncovered, 
and  two  men  were  working,  one  at  the  upholstery, 
which  he  was  brushing.  The  other  was  carefully  oil 
ing  the  wood  of  the  body.  Save  for  them,  the  wide 
and  dusky  loft  was  empty. 

One  was  a  boy,  newly  come  from  the  country.  The 
other  was  an  elderly  man.  It  was  he  who  oiled. 

"Many  a  king  has  this  carried,"  said  the  man. 
"  My  father,  who  was  here  before  me,  oiled  it  for  the 
last  one." 

"May  it  be  long  before  it  carries  another!"  com 
mented  the  boy  fervently. 

"It  will  not  be  long.  The  old  King  fails  hourly. 
And  this  happening  of  yesterday  — " 

"What  happened  yesterday?"  queried  the  boy. 


AT  THE  RIDING-SCHOOL  53 

"  It  was  a  matter  of  the  Crown  Prince." 

"Was  he  ill?" 

"He  ran  away,"  said  the  man  shortly. 

"Ran  away?"  The  boy  stopped  his  dusting,  and 
stared,  open-mouthed. 

"Aye,  ran  away.  Grew  weary  of  back-bending, 
perhaps.  I  do  not  know.'  I  do  not  believe  in  kings." 

"Not  believe  in  kings?"  The  boy  stopped  his 
brushing." 

"You  do,  of  course,"  sneered  the  man.  "Because 
a  thing  is,  it  is  right.  But  I  think.  I  use  my  brains. 
I  reason.  And  I  do  not  believe  in  kings." 

Up  the  runway  came  sounds  from  the  ring,  the 
thudding  of  hoofs,  followed  by  a  child's  shrill,  joyous 
laughter.  The  man  scowled. 

"Listen!"  he  said.    "We  labor  and  they  play." 

"It  has  always  been  so.  I  do  not  begrudge  hap 
piness." 

But  the  man  was  not  listening. 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  kings,"  he  said  sullenly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   CHANCELLOR   PAYS   A   VISIT 

THE  Archduchess  was  having  tea.  Her  boudoir  was 
a  crowded  little  room.  Nikky  had  once  observed 
confidentially  to  Miss  Braithwaite  that  it  was  exactly 
like  her,  all  hung  and  furnished  with  things  that  were 
not  needed.  The  Archduchess  liked  it  because  it 
was  warm.  The  palace  rooms  were  mostly  large  and 
chilly.  She  had  a  fire  there  on  the  warmest  days  in 
spring,  and  liked  to  put  the  coals  on,  herself.  She 
wrapped  them  in  pieces  of  paper  so  she  would  not 
soil  her  hands. 

This  afternoon  she  was  not  alone.  Lounging  at  a 
window  was  the  lady  who  was  in  waiting  at  the 
time,  the  Countess  Loschek.  Just  now  she  was  get 
ting  rather  a  wigging,  but  she  was  remarkably  calm. 

"The  last  three  times,"  the  Archduchess  said, 
stirring  her  tea,  "you  have  had  a  sore  throat." 

"  It  is  such  a  dull  book,"  explained  the  Countess. 

"Not  at  all.  It  is  an  improving  book.  If  you 
would  put  your  mind  on  it  when  you  are  reading, 
Olga,  you  would  enjoy  it.  And  you  would  learn 
something,  besides.  In  my  opinion,"  went  on  the 
Archduchess,  tasting  her  tea,  "you  smoke  too  many 
cigarettes." 

The  Countess  yawned,  but  silently,  at  her  window. 


THE  CHANCELLOR  PAYS  A  VISIT        55 

Then  she  consulted  a  thermometer.  "Eighty!"  she 
said  briefly,  and,  coming  over,  sat  down  by  the  tea- 
table. 

The  Countess  Loschek  was  thirty,  and  very  hand 
some,  in  an  insolent  way.  She  was  supposed  to  be 
the  best-dressed  woman  at  the  Court,  and  to  rule 
Annunciata  with  an  iron  hand,  although  it  was 
known  that  they  quarreled  a  great  deal  over  small 
things,  especially  over  the  coal  fire. 

Some  said  that  the  real  thing  that  held  them  to 
gether  was  resentment  that  the  little  Crown  Prince 
stood  between  the  Princess  Hedwig  and  the  throne. 
Annunciata  was  not  young,  but  she  was  younger  than 
her  dead  brother,  Hubert.  And  others  said  it  was 
because  the  Countess  gathered  up  and  brought  in 
the  news  of  the  Court  —  the  small  intrigues  and  the 
scandals  that  constitute  life  in  the  restricted  walls 
of  a  palace.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  gossip  in  a 
palace  where  the  king  is  old  and  everything  rather 
stupid  and  dull. 

The  Countess  yawned  again. 

"Where  is  Hedwig?"  demanded  the  Archduchess. 

"Her  Royal  Highness  is  in  the  nursery,  prob 
ably." 

"Why  probably?" 

"She  goes  there  a  great  deal." 

The  Archduchess  eyed  her.  "Well,  out  with  it," 
she  said.  "There  is  something  seething  in  that 
wicked  brain  of  yours." 

The  Countess  shrugged  her  shoulders.   Not  that 


56  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

she  resented  having  a  wicked  brain.  She  rather  fan 
cied  the  idea.  "She  and  young  Lieutenant  Lar- 
isch  have  tea  quite  frequently  with  His  Royal 
Highness." 

"How  frequently?" 

"Three  times  this  last  week,  madame." 

"Little  fool ! "  said  Annunciata.  But  she  frowned, 
and  sat  tapping  her  teacup  with  her  spoon.  She  was 
just  a  trifle  afraid  of  Hedwig,  and  she  was  more  anx 
ious  than  she  would  have  cared  to  acknowledge. 
"It  is  being  talked  about,  of  course?" 

The  Countess  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Don't  do  that!"  commanded  the  Archduchess 
sharply.  "How  far  do  you  think  the  thing  has 
gone?  " 

"He  is  quite  mad  about  her." 

"And  Hedwig  —  but  she  is  silly  enough  for  any 
thing.  Do  they  meet  anywhere  else?  " 

"At  the  riding-school,  I  believe.  At  least,  I  — " 

Here  a  maid  entered  and  stood  waiting  at  the  end 
of  the  screen.  The  Archduchess  Annunciata  would 
have  none  of  the  palace  flunkies  about  her  when  she 
could  help  it.  She  had  had  enough  of  men,  she  main 
tained,  in  the  person  of  her  late  husband,  whom  she 
had  detested.  So  except  at  dinner  she  was  attended 
by  tidy  little  maids,  in  gray  Quaker  costumes,  who 
could  carry  tea-trays  into  her  crowded  boudoir 
without  breaking  things. 

"His  Excellency,  General  Mettlich,"  said  the 
maid. 


THE  CHANCELLOR  PAYS  A  VISIT        57 

The  Archduchess  nodded  her  august  head,  and  the 
maid  retired.  "Go  away,  Olga,"  said  the  Arch 
duchess.  "And  you  might,"  she  suggested  grimly, 
"gargle  your  throat." 

The  Chancellor  had  passed  a  troubled  night.  Be 
ing  old,  like  the  King,  he  required  little  sleep.  And 
for  most  of  the  time  between  one  o'clock  and  his  ris 
ing  hour  of  five  he  had  lain  in  his  narrow  camp-bed 
and  thought.  He  had  not  confided  all  his  worries  to 
the  King. 

Evidences  of  renewed  activity  on  the  part  of  the 
Terrorists  were  many.  In  the  past  month  two  of  his 
best  secret  agents  had  disappeared.  One  had  been 
found  the  day  before,  stabbed  in  the  back.  The 
Chancellor  had  seen  the  body  —  an  unpleasant 
sight.  But  it  was  not  of  the  dead  man  that  General 
Mettlich  thought.  It  was  of  the  other.  The  dead 
tell  nothing.  But  the  living,  under  torture,  tell  many 
things.  And  this  man  Haeckel,  young  as  he  was, 
knew  much  that  was  vital.  Knew  the  working  of  the 
Secret  Service,  the  names  of  the  outer  circle  of 
twelve,  knew  the  codes  and  passwords,  knew,  too 
the  ways  of  the  palace,  the  hidden  room  always 
ready  for  emergency,  even  the  passage  that  led  by 
devious  ways,  underground,  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
great  park. 

At  five  General  Mettlich  had  risen,  exercised  be 
fore  an  open  window  with  an  old  pair  of  iron  dumb 
bells,  had  followed  this  with  a  cold  bath  and  hot 
coffee,  and  had  gone  to  early  Mass  at  the  Cathedral. 


58  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

And  there,  on  his  knees,  he  had  prayed  for  a  little 
help.  He  was,  he  said,  getting  old  and  infirm,  and  he 
had  been  too  apt  all  his  life  to  rely  on  his  own  right 
arm.  But  things  were  getting  rather  difficult.  He 
prayed  to  Our  Lady  for  intercession  for  the  little 
Prince.  He  felt,  in  his  old  heart,  that  the  Mother 
would  understand  the  situation,  and  how  he  felt 
about  it.  And  he  asked  in  a  general  supplication,  and 
very  humbly,  for  a  few  years  more  of  life.  Not  that 
life  meant  anything  to  him  personally.  He  had  out 
lived  most  of  those  he  loved.  But  that  he  might 
serve  the  King,  and  after  him  the  boy  who  would  be 
Otto  IX.  He  added,  for  fear  they  might  not  under 
stand,  having  a  great  deal  to  look  after,  that  he  had 
earned  all  this  by  many  years  of  loyalty,  and  besides, 
that  he  knew  the  situation  better  than  any  one  else. 

He  felt  much  better  after  that.  Especially  as,  at 
the  moment  he  rose  from  his  knees,  the  cathedral 
clock  had  chimed  and  then  struck  seven.  He  had 
found  seven  a  very  lucky  number.  So  now  he  en 
tered  the  boudoir  of  the  Archduchess  Annunciata, 
and  the  Countess  went  out  another  door,  and  closed 
it  behind  her,  immediately  opening  it  about  an  inch. 

The  Chancellor  strode  around  the  screen,  scratch 
ing  two  tables  with  his  sword  as  he  advanced,  and 
kissed  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Annunciata.  They 
were  old  enemies  and  therefore  always  very  polite  to 
each  other.  The  Archduchess  offered  him  a  cup  of 
tea,  which  he  took,  although  she  always  made  very 
bad  tea.  And  for  a  few  moments  they  discussed 


THE  CHANCELLOR  PAYS  A  VISIT        59 

things.  Thus:  the  King's  condition;  the  replanting 
of  the  Place  with  trees;  and  the  date  of  bringing  out 
the  Princess  Hilda,  who  was  still  in  the  schoolroom. 

But  the  Archduchess  suddenly  came  to  business. 
She  was  an  abrupt  person.  "And  now,  General," 
she  said,  "what  is  it?" 

"  I  am  in  trouble,  Highness,"  replied  the  Chancel 
lor  simply. 

"We  are  most  of  us  in  that  condition  at  all  times. 
I  suppose  you  mean  this  absurd  affair  of  yesterday. 
Why  such  a  turmoil  about  it?  The  boy  ran  away. 
When  he  was  ready  he  returned.  It  was  absurd,  and 
I  dare  say  you  and  I  both  are  being  held  for  our  sins. 
But  he  is  here  now,  and  safe." 

"I  am  afraid  he  is  not  as  safe  as  you  think, 
madame." 

"Why?" 

He  sat  forward  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  and  told 
her  of  the  students  at  the  University,  who  were  be 
ing  fired  by  some  powerful  voice;  of  the  disappear 
ance  of  the  two  spies ;  of  the  evidence  that  the  Com 
mittee  of  Ten  was  meeting  again,  and  the  failure  to 
discover  their  meeting-place;  of  disaffection  among 
the  people,  according  to  the  reports  of  his  agents. 
And  then  to  the  real  purpose  of  his  visit.  Karl  of 
Karnia  had,  unofficially,  proposed  for  the  Princess 
Hedwig.  He  had  himself  broached  the  matter  to  the 
King,  who  had  at  least  taken  it  under  advisement. 
The  Archduchess  listened,  rather  pale.  There  was 
no  mistaking  the  urgency  in  the  Chancellor's  voice. 


60  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"  Madame,  after  centuries  of  independence  we  now 
face  a  crisis  which  we  cannot  meet  alone.  Believe 
me,  I  know  of  what  I  speak.  United,  we  could  stand 
against  the  world.  But  a  divided  kingdom,  a  dis 
loyal  and  discontented  people,  spells  the  end." 

And  at  last  he  convinced  her.  But,  because  she 
was  built  of  a  contrary  mould,  she  voiced 'an  objec 
tion,  not  to  the  scheme,  but  to  Karl  himself.  "  I  dis 
like  him.  He  is  arrogant  and  stupid." 

"  But  powerful,  madame.  And — what  else  is  there 
to  do?" 

There  was  nothing  else,  and  she  knew  it.  But  she 
refused  to  broach  the  matter  to  Hedwig. 

She  stated,  and  perhaps  not  without  reason,  that 
such  a  move  was  to  damn  the  whole  thing  at  once. 
She  did  not  use  exactly  these  words,  but  their  royal 
equivalent.  And  it  ended  with  the  Chancellor,  look 
ing  most  ferocious  but  inwardly  uneasy,  undertak 
ing  to  put,  as  one  may  say,  a  flea  into  the  Princess 
Hedwig's  small  ear. 

As  he  strode  out,  the  door  into  the  next  room 
closed  quietly. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TEA   IN   THE   SCHOOLROOM 

TEA  at  the  Palace,  until  the  old  King  had  taken  to 
his  bed,  had  been  the  one  cheerful  hour  of  the  day. 
The  entire  suite  gathered  in  one  of  the  salons,  and 
remained  standing  until  the  King's  entrance.  After 
that,  formality  ceased.  Groups  formed,  footmen  in 
plush  with  white  wigs  passed  trays  of  cakes  and 
sandwiches  and  tiny  gilt  cups  of  exquisite  tea.  The 
Court,  so  to  speak,  removed  its  white  gloves,  and 
was  noisy  and  informal.  True,  at  dinner  again  cere 
mony  and  etiquette  would  reign.  The  march  into 
the  dining-hall  between  rows  of  bowing  servants,  the 
set  conversation,  led  by  the  King,  the  long  and  tedi 
ous  courses,  the  careful  watch  for  precedence  —  that 
was  dinner  at  the  Palace. 

But  now  all  that  was  changed.  The  King  did  not 
leave  his  apartment.  Annunciata  occasionally  took 
tea  with  the  suite,  but,  glad  for  an  excuse,  left  the 
Court  to  dine  without  her.  Sometimes  for  a  half- 
hour  she  lent  her  royal  if  somewhat  indifferently 
attired  presence  to  the  salon  afterward,  where  for 
thirty  minutes  or  so  she  moved  from  group  to  group, 
exchanging  a  few  more  or  less  gracious  words.  But 
such  times  were  rare.  The  Archduchess,  according 
to  Court  gossip,  had  "slumped." 


62  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

To  Hedwig  the  change  had  been  a  relief.  The  en 
tourage,  with  its  gossip,  its  small  talk,  its  liaisons, 
excited  in  her  only  indifference  and  occasional  loath 
ing.  Not  that  her  short  life  had  been  without  its 
affairs.  She  was  too  lovely  for  that.  But  they  had 
touched  her  only  faintly. 

On  the  day  of  the  Chancellor's  visit  to  her  mother 
she  went  to  tea  in  the  schoolroom.  She  came  in 
glowing  from  a  walk,  with  the  jacket  of  her  dark  vel 
vet  suit  thrown  open,  and  a  bunch  of  lilies-of-the- 
valley  tucked  in  her  belt. 

Tea  had  already  come,  and  Captain  Larisch, 
holding  his  cup,  was  standing  by  the  table.  The 
Crown  Prince,  who  was  allowed  only  one  cup,  was 
having  a  second  of  hot  water  and  milk,  equal  parts, 
and  sweetened. 

Hedwig  slipped  out  of  her  jacket  and  drew  off  her 
gloves.  She  had  hardly  glanced  at  Nikky,  although 
she  knew  quite  well  every  motion  he  had  made  since 
she  entered.  "I  am  famished!"  she  said,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  eat  very  little  and  barely  touch  the  tea. 
"Please  don't  go,  Miss  Braithwaite.  And  now,  how 
is  everything?" 

Followed  a  long  half-hour,  in  which  the  Crown 
Prince  talked  mostly  of  the  Land  of  Desire  and  the 
American  boy.  Miss  Braithwaite,  much  indulged  by 
long  years  of  service,  crocheted,  and  Nikky  Larisch, 
from  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  watched  the  little 
group.  In  reality  he  watched  Hedwig,  all  his  hum 
ble,  boyish  heart  in  his  eyes. 


TEA  IN  THE  SCHOOLROOM  63 

After  a  time  Hedwig  slipped  the  lilies  out  of  her 
belt  and  placed  them  in  a  glass  of  water. 

"They  are  thirsty,  poor  things,"  she  said  to  Otto. 
Only  —  and  here  was  a  strange  thing,  if  she  were 
really  sorry  for  them  —  one  of  the  stalks  fell  to  the 
floor,  and  she  did  not  trouble  to  pick  it  up.  Nikky 
retrieved  it,  and  pretended  to  place  it  with  the 
others.  But  in  reality  he  had  palmed  it  quite  neatly, 
and  a  little  later  he  pocketed  it.  Still  later,  he  placed 
it  in  his  prayer-book. 

The  tea-table  became  rather  noisy.  The  room 
echoed  with  laughter.  Even  Miss  Braithwaite  was 
compelled  to  wipe  her  eyes  over  some  of  Nikky's 
sallies,  and  the  Crown  Prince  was  left  quite  gasping. 
Nikky  was  really  in  his  best  form,  being  most  un 
reasonably  happy,  and  Hedwig,  looking  much  taller 
than  in  her  boyish  riding-clothes  —  Hedwig  was 
fairly  palpitating  with  excitement. 

Nikky  was  a  born  mimic.  First  he  took  off  the 
King's  Council,  one  by  one.  Then  in  an  instant  he 
was  Napoleon,  which  was  easy,  of  course;  and  the 
next  second,  with  one  of  the  fur  tails  which  had  come 
unfastened  from  Hedwig's  muff,  he  had  become  a 
pirate,  with  the  tail  for  a  great  mustache.  One  of 
the  very  best  things  he  did,  however,  was  to  make 
a  widow's  cap  out  of  a  tea-napkin,  and  surmount  it 
with  a  tiny  coronet,  which  was  really  Hedwig's 
bracelet.  He  put  it  on,  drew  down  his  upper  lip, 
and  puffed  his  cheeks,  and  there  was  Queen  Victo 
ria  of  England  to  the  life. 


64  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Hedwig  was  so  delighted  with  this  that  she  made 
him  sit  down,  and  draped  one  of  Miss  Braithwaite's 
shawls  about  his  shoulders.  It  was  difficult  to  look 
like  Queen  Victoria  under  the  circumstances,  with 
her  small  hands  deftly  draping  and  smoothing.  But 
Nikky  did  very  well. 

It  was  just  as  Hedwig  was  tucking  the  shawl  about 
his  neck  to  hide  the  collar  of  his  tunic,  and  Miss 
Braithwaite  was  looking  a  trifle  offended,  because 
she  considered  the  memory  of  Queen  Victoria  not  to 
be  trifled  with,  and  just  as  Nikky  took  a  fresh  breath 
and  puffed  out  his  cheeks  again,  that  the  Archduch 
ess  came  in. 

She  entered  unannounced,  save  by  a  jingle  of 
chains,  and  surveyed  the  room  with  a  single  furious 
glance.  Queen  Victoria's  cheeks  collapsed  and  the 
coronet  slid  slightly  to  one  side.  Then  Nikky  rose 
and  jerked  off  the  shawl  and  bowed.  Every  one 
looked  rather  frightened,  except  the  Crown  Prince. 
In  a  sort  of  horrible  silence  he  advanced  and  kissed 
Annunciata's  hand. 

"So  this  is  what  you  are  doing,"  observed  Her 
Royal  Highness  to  Hedwig.  "In  this  —  this  un 
dignified  manner  you  spend  your  time!" 

"It  is  very  innocent  fun,  mother." 

For  that  matter,  there  was  nothing  very  dignified 
in  the  scene  that  followed.  The  Archduchess  dis 
missed  the  governess  and  the  Crown  Prince,  quite 
as  if  he  had  been  an  ordinary  child,  and  naughty  at 
that.  Miss  Braithwaite  looked  truculent.  After  all, 


TEA  IN  THE  SCHOOLROOM  65 

the  heir  to  the  throne  is  the  heir  to  the  throne  and 
should  have  the  privilege  of  his  own  study.  But  Hed- 
wig  gave  her  an  appealing  glance,  and  she  went  out, 
closing  the  door  with  what  came  dangerously  near 
being  a  slam. 

The  Archduchess  surveyed  the  two  remaining  cul 
prits  with  a  terrible  gaze.  "Now,"  she  said,  "how 
long  have  these  ridiculous  performances  been  going 
on?" 

"Mother!"  said  Hedwig. 

"Answer  me." 

"The  question  is  absurd.  There  was  no  harm  in 
what  we  were  doing.  It  amused  Otto.  He  has  few 
enough  pleasures.  Thanks  to  all  of  us,  he  is  very 
lonely." 

"And  since  when  have  you  assumed  the  respon 
sibility  for  his  upbringing?" 

"I  remember  my  own  dreary  childhood,"  said 
Hedwig  stiffly. 

The  Archduchess  turned  on  her  furiously.  "More 
and  more,"  she  said,  "as you  grow  up,  Hedwig,  you 
remind  me  of  your  unfortunate  father.  You  have  the 
same  lack  of  dignity,  the  same"  —  she  glanced  at 
Nikky  —  "the  same  common  tastes,  the  same  habit 
of  choosing  strange  society,  of  forgetting  your  rank." 

Hedwig  was  scarlet,  but  Nikky  had  gone  pale.  As 
for  the  Archduchess,  her  cameos  were  rising  and  fall 
ing  stormily.  With  hands  that  shook,  Hedwig  picked 
up  her  jacket  and  hat.  Then  she  moved  toward  the 
door. 


66  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  mother,"  she  said,  "but 
I  hope  I  shall  never  have  the  bad  taste  to  speak  ill 
of  the  dead."  Then  she  went  out. 

The  scene  between  the  Archduchess  and  Nikky 
began  in  a  storm  and  ended  in  a  sort  of  hopeless 
quiet.  Miss  Braithwaite  had  withdrawn  to  her  sit 
ting-room,  but  even  there  she  could  hear  the  voice 
of  Annunciata,  rasping  and  angry. 

It  was  very  clear  to  Nikky  from  the  beginning  that 
the  Archduchess's  wrath  was  not  for  that  afternoon 
alone.  And  in  his  guilty  young  mind  rose  various 
memories,  all  infinitely  dear,  all  infinitely,  incredibly 
reckless  —  other  frolics  around  the  tea-table,  rides 
in  the  park,  lessons  in  the  riding-school.  Very  soon 
he  was  confessing  them  all,  in  reply  to  sharp  ques 
tions.  When  the  tablet  of  his  sins  was  finally  uncov 
ered,  the  Archduchess  was  less  angry  and  a  great 
deal  more  anxious.  Hedwig  free  was  a  problem. 
Hedwig  in  love  with  this  dashing  boy  was  a  greater 
one. 

"Of  one  thing  I  must  assure  Your  Highness,"  said 
Nikky.  "These  —  these  meetings  have  been  of  my 
seeking." 

"The  Princess  requires  no  defense,  Captain 
Larisch." 

That  put  him  back  where  he  belonged,  and  An 
nunciata  did  a  little  thinking,  while  Nikky  went  on, 
in  his  troubled  way,  running  his  fingers  through  his 
hair  until  he  looked  rather  like  an  uneasy  but  ardent- 
eyed  porcupine.  He  acknowledged  that  these  meet- 


TEA  IN  THE  SCHOOLROOM  67 

ings  had  meant  much  to  him,  everything  to  him,  he 
would  confess,  but  he  had  never  dared  to  hope.  He 
had  always  thought  of  Her  Royal  Highness  as  the 
granddaughter  of  his  King.  He  had  never  spoken  a 
word  that  he  need  regret.  Annunciata  listened,  and 
took  his  measure  shrewdly.  He  was  the  sort  of 
young  fool,  she  told  herself,  who  would  sacrifice  him 
self  and  crucify  his  happiness  for  his  country.  It  was 
on  just  such  shoulders  as  his  that  the  throne  was  up 
held.  His  loyalty  was  more  to  be  counted  on  than 
his  heart. 

She  changed  her  tactics  adroitly,  sat  down,  even 
softened  her  voice.  "  I  have  been  emphatic,  Captain 
Larisch,"  she  said,  "because,  as  I  think  you  know, 
things  are  not  going  too  well  with  us.  To  help  the 
situation,  certain  plans  are  being  made.  I  will  be 
more  explicit.  A  marriage  is  planned  for  the  Prin 
cess  Hedwig,  which  will  assist  us  all.  It  is"  — 
she  hesitated  imperceptibly  —  "the  King's  dearest 
wish." 

Horror  froze  on  Nikky's  face.   But  he  bowed. 

"After  what  you  have  told  me,  I  shall  ask  your 
cooperation,"  said  Annunciata  smoothly.  "While 
there  are  some  of  us  who  deplore  the  necessity,  still 
-  it  exists.  And  an  alliance  with  Karnia  — " 

"Karnia!"  cried  Nikky,  violating  all  ceremonial, 
of  course.  "But  surely  — ! " 

The  Archduchess  rose  and  drew  herself  to  her  full 
height.  "  I  have  given  you  confidence  for  confidence, 
Captain  Larisch,"  she  said  coldly.  "The  Princess 


68  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Hedwig  has  not  yet  been  told.  We  shall  be  glad  of 
your  assistance  when  that  time  comes.  It  is  possible 
that  it  will  not  come.  In  case  it  does,  we  shall  count 
on  you." 

Nikky  bowled  deeply  as  she  went  out,  bowed,  with 
death  in  his  eyes. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  Captain  Nicholas 
Larisch,  aide-de-camp  to  his  Royal  Highness  the 
Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  and  of  no 
other  particular  importance,  was  informed  of  the 
Princess  Hedwig's  projected  marriage  before  she 
was.  And  not  only  informed  of  it,  but  committed  to 
forward  it,  if  he  could! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   LETTER 

THE  Countess  Loschek  was  alone.  Alone  and  storm 
ing.  She  had  sent  her  maid  away  with  a  sharp  word, 
and  now  she  was  pacing  the  floor. 

Hedwig,  of  all  people! 

She  hated  her.  She  had  always  hated  her.  For 
her  youth,  first;  later,  when  she  saw  how  things  were 
going,  for  the  accident  that  had  made  her  a  grand 
daughter  to  the  King. 

And  Karl. 

Even  this  last  June,  when  Karl  had  made  his 
looked-for  visit  to  the  summer  palace  where  the 
Court  had  been  in  residence,  he  had  already  had  the 
thing  in  mind.  Even  when  his  arms  had  been  about 
her,  Olga  Loschek,  he  had  been  looking  over  her 
shoulder,  as  it  were,  at  Hedwig.  He  had  had  it  all 
in  his  wicked  head,  even  then.  For  Karl  was  wicked. 
None  would  know  it  better  than  she,  who  was 
risking  everything,  life  itself,  for  him.  Wicked,  un 
grateful,  and  unscrupulous.  She  loathed  him  while 
she  loved  him. 

The  thing  would  happen.  This  was  the  way  things 
were  done  in  Courts.  An  intimation  from  one  side 
that  a  certain  thing  would  be  agreeable  and  profit 
able.  A  discussion  behind  closed  doors.  A  reply  that 


70  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

the  intimation  had  been  well  received.  Then  the 
formal  proposal,  and  its  acceptance. 

Hedwig  would  marry  Karl.  She  might  be  trouble 
some,  would  indeed  almost  certainly  be  trouble 
some.  Strangely  enough,  the  Countess  hated  her  the 
more  for  that.  To  value  so  lightly  the  thing  for 
which  Olga  Loschek  would  have  given  her  soul,  this 
in  itself  was  hateful.  But  there  was  more.  The 
Countess  saw  much  with  her  curiously  wide,  almost 
childishly  bland  eyes;  it  was  only  now  that  it  oc 
curred  to  her  to  turn  what  she  knew  of  Hedwig  and 
Nikky  to  account. 

She  stopped  pacing  the  floor,  and  sat  down. 
Suppose  Hedwig  and  Nikky  Larisch  went  away  to 
gether?  Hedwig,  she  felt,  would  have  the  courage 
even  for  that.  That  would  stop  things.  But  Hedwig 
did  not  trust  her.  And  there  was  about  Nikky  a 
dog-like  quality  of  devotion,  which  warned  her  that, 
the  deeper  his  love  for  Hedwig,  the  more  unlikely  he 
would  be  to  bring  her  to  disgrace.  Nikky  might  be 
difficult. 

"The  fool!"  said  the  Countess,  between  her 
clenched  teeth.  To  both  the  Archduchess  Annun- 
ciata  and  her  henchwoman,  people  were  chiefly 
divided  into  three  classes,  fools,  knaves,  and  them 
selves. 

She  must  try  for  Hedwig's  confidence,  then.  But 
Karl!  How  to  reach  him?  Not  with  reproaches,  not 
with  anger.  She  knew  her  man  well.  To  hold  him 
off  was  the  first  thing.  To  postpone  the  formal  pro- 


THE  LETTER  71 

posal,  and  gain  time.  If  the  Chancellor  had  been 
right,  and  things  were  as  bad  as  they  appeared,  the 
King's  death  would  precipitate  a  crisis.  Might,  in 
deed,  overturn  the  throne. 

And  Karl  had  changed.  The  old  days  when  he 
loved  trouble  were  gone.  His  thoughts,  like  all 
thoughts  these  days,  she  reflected  contemptuously, 
were  turned  to  peace,  not  to  war.  He  was  for  beating 
his  swords  into  ploughshares,  with  a  vengeance. 

To  hold  him  off,  then.   To  gain  time. 

The  King  was  very  feeble.  This  affair  of  yester 
day  had  told  on  him.  The  gossip  of  the  Court  was 
that  the  day  had  seen  a  change  for  the  worse.  His 
heart  was  centered  on  the  Crown  Prince. 

Ah,  here  was  another  viewpoint.  Suppose  the 
Crown  Prince  had  not  come  back?  What  would 
happen,  with  the  King  dead,  and  no  king?  Chaos,  of 
course.  A  free  hand  to  revolution.  Hedwig  fighting 
for  her  throne,  and  inevitably  losing  it.  Then  what 
about  Karl  and  his  dreams  of  peace? 

But  that  was  further  than  she  cared  to  go  just 
then.  She  would  finish  certain  work  that  she  had  set 
out  to  do,  and  then  she  was  through.  No  longer 
would  dread  and  terror  grip  her  in  the  night  hours. 

But  she  would  finish.  Karl  should  never  say  she 
had  failed  him'.  In  her  new  rage  against  him  she  was 
for  cleaning  the  slate  at  once.  She  had  in  her  pos 
session  papers  for  which  he  waited  or  pretended  to 
wait:  data  secured  by  means  she  did  not  care  to  re 
member;  plans  and  figures  carefully  compiled  —  a 


72  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

thousand  deaths  in  one,  if  they  were  found  on  her. 
She  would  get  them  out  of  her  hands  at  once. 

It  was  still  but  little  after  five.  She  brought  her 
papers  together  on  her  small  mahogany  desk,  from 
such  hiding-places  as  women  know  —  the  linings  of 
perfumed  sachets,  the  toes  of  small  slippers,  the  se 
cret  pocket  in  a  muff ;  and  having  locked  her  doors, 
put  them  in  order.  Her  hands  were  trembling,  but 
she  worked  skillfully.  She  was  free  until  the  dinner 
hour,  but  she  had  a  great  deal  to  do.  The  papers  in 
order,  she  went  to  a  panel  in  the  wall  of  her  dressing- 
room,  and,  sliding  it  aside,  revealed  the  safe  in 
which  her  jewels  were  kept.  Not  that  her  jewels 
were  very  valuable,  but  the  safe  was  there,  and  she 
used  it. 

The  palace,  for  that  matter,  was  full  of  cunningly 
contrived  hiding-places.  Some,  in  times  of  stress, 
had  held  jewels.  Others  —  rooms  these,  built  in  the 
stone  walls  and  carefully  mapped  —  had  held  even 
royal  refugees  themselves.  The  map  was  in  the 
King's  possession,  and  descended  from  father  to  son, 
a  curious  old  paper,  with  two  of  the  hidden  rooms 
marked  off  in  colored  inks  as  closed.  Closed,  with 
strange  secrets  beyond,  quite  certainly. 

The  Countess  took  out  a  jewel-case,  emptied  it, 
lifted  its  chamois  cushions,  and  took  out  a  small 
book.  It  was  an  indifferent  hiding-place,  but  long 
immunity  had  made  her  careless.  Referring  to  the 
book,  she  wrote  a  letter  in  code.  It  was,  to  all  ap 
pearances,  a  friendly  letter  referring  to  a  family  in  her 


THE  LETTER  73 

native  town,  and  asking  that  the  recipient  see  that 
assistance  be  sent  them  before  Thursday  of  the  fol 
lowing  week.  The  assistance  was  specified  with  much 
detail  —  at  her  expense  to  send  so  many  blankets, 
so  many  loaves  of  bread,  a  long  list.  Having  finished, 
she  destroyed,  by  burning,  a  number  of  papers, 
watching  until  the  last  ash  had  turned  from  dull 
red  to  smoking  gray.  The  code-book  she  hesitated 
over,  but  at  last,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders, 
she  returned  it  to  its  hiding-place  in  the  jewel- 
case. 

Coupled  with  her  bitterness  was  a  sense  of  relief. 
Only  when  the  papers  were  destroyed  had  she  real 
ized  the  weight  they  had  been.  She  summoned 
Minna,  her  maid,  and  dressed  for  the  street.  Then, 
Minna  accompanying  her,  she  summoned  her  car 
riage  and  went  shopping. 

She  reached  the  palace  again  in  time  to  dress  for 
dinner.  Somewhere  on  that  excursion  she  had  left 
the  letter,  to  be  sent  to  its  destination  over  the  bor 
der  by  special  messenger  that  night. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  at  the  moment 
of  her  return,  was  preparing  for  bed.  At  a  quarter 
to  seven  he  had  risen,  bowed  to  Miss  Braithwaite, 
said  good-night,  and  disappeared  toward  his  bed 
room  and  his  waiting  valet.  But  a  moment  later  he 
reappeared. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "but  I  think  your 
watch  is  fast." 

Miss  Braithwaite  consulted  it.   Then,  rising,  she 


74  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

went  to  the  window  and  compared  it  with  the  moon- 
like  face  of  the  cathedral  clock. 

"There  is  a  difference  of  five  minutes,"  she  con 
ceded.  "But  I  have  no  confidence  in  the  cathedral 
clock.  It  needs  oiling,  probably.  Besides,  there  are 
always  pigeons  sitting  on  the  hands." 

"May  I  wait  for  five  minutes?" 

"What  could  you  do  in  five  minutes?" 

"Well,"  he  suggested,  rather  pleadingly,  "we 
might  have  a  little  conversation,  if  you  are  not  too 
tired." 

Miss  Braithwaite  sighed.  It  had  been  a  long  day 
and  not  a  calm  one,  and  conversation  with  His 
Highness  meant  questions,  mostly. 

"Very  well,"  she  said. 

"I'm  not  at  all  sleepy,"  Prince  Ferdinand  Wil 
liam  Otto  observed,  climbing  on  a  chair.  "  I  thought 
you  might  tell  me  about  America.  I  'm  awfully  curi 
ous  about  America." 

"I  suppose  you  mean  the  United  States." 

" I'm  not  sure.  It  has  New  York,  in  it,  anyhow. 
They  don't  have  kings,  do  they?" 

"No,"  said  Miss  Braithwaite,  shortly.  She  hated 
republics. 

"What  I  wondered  was,"  said  Ferdinand  Wil 
liam  Otto,  swinging  his  legs,  "how  they  managed 
without  a  king.  Who  tells  them  what  to  do?  I  'm 
interested,  because  I  met  a  boy  yesterday  who  came 
from  there,  and  he  talked  quite  a  lot  about  it.  He 
was  a  very  interesting  boy." 


THE  LETTER  75 

Miss  Braithwaite  waived  the  matter  of  yesterday. 
"In  a  republic,"  she  said,  "the  people  think  they  can 
govern  themselves.  But  they  do  it  very  badly.  The 
average  intelligence  among  people  in  the  mass  is  al 
ways  rather  low." 

"He  said,"  went  on  His  Royal  Highness,  pursu 
ing  a  line  of  thought,  "that  the  greatest  man  in  the 
world  was  a  man  named  Lincoln.  But  that  he  is 
dead.  And  he  said  that  kings  were  nuisances,  and 
did  n't  earn  their  bread-and-butter.  Of  course," 
Otto  hastened  to  explain,  "he  did  n't  know  that  my 
grandfather  is  a  king.  After  that,  I  did  n't  exactly 
like  to  tell  him.  It  would  have  made  him  very  un 
comfortable."  Here  he  yawned,  but  covered  it  with 
a  polite  hand,  and  Oskar,  his  valet,  came  to  the 
doorway  and  stood  waiting.  He  was  a  dignified  per 
son  in  a  plum-colored  livery,  because  the  King  con 
sidered  black  gloomy  for  a  child. 

The  Crown  Prince  slipped  to  the  floor,  and  stood 
with  his  feet  rather  wide  apart,  looking  steadfastly 
at  Miss  Braithwaite.  "I  would  like  very  much  to 
see  that  boy  again,"  he  observed.  "He  was  a  nice 
boy,  and  very  kind-hearted.  If  we  could  go  to  the 
Scenic  Railway  when  we  are  out  in  the  carriage,  I  — 
I'd  enjoy  it."  He  saw  refusal  in  her  face,  for  he 
added  hurriedly,  "Not  to  ride.  I  just  want  to  look 
at  it." 

Miss  Braithwaite  was  touched,  but  firm.  She  ex 
plained  that  it  would  be  better  if  the  Crown  Prince 
did  not  see  the  boy  again;  and  to  soften  the  refusal, 


76  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

she  reminded  him  that  the  American  child  did  not 
like  royalties,  and  that  even  to  wave  from  his  car 
riage  with  the  gold  wheels  would  therefore  be  a  tac 
tical  error. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  listened,  and 
Oskar  waited.  And  something  that  had  been  joyous 
and  singing  in  a  small  boy's  heart  was  suddenly  still. 

"I  had  forgotten  about  that,"  he  said. 

Then  Miss  Braithwaite  rose,  and  the  Prince  put 
his  heels  together  with  a  click,  and  bowed,  as  he  had 
been  taught  to  do. 

"Good-night,"  he  said. 

"Good-night,  Your  Highness,"  replied  Miss 
Braithwaite. 

At  the  door  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  turned 
and  bowed  again.  Then  he  went  out,  and  the  door 
closed  behind  him. 

He  washed  himself,  with  Oskar  standing  by,  hold 
ing  a  great  soft  towel.  Even  the  towels  were  too 
large.  And  he  brushed  his  teeth,  and  had  two  drinks 
of  water,  because  a  stiffish  feeling  in  his  throat  per 
sisted.  And  at  last  he  crawled  up  into  the  high  bed 
that  was  so  much  too  big  for  him,  and  had  to  crawl 
out  again,  because  he  had  forgotten  his  prayers. 

When  everything  was  done,  and  the  hour  of  put 
ting  out  the  light  could  no  longer  be  delayed,  he  said 
good-night  to  Oskar,  who  bowed.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  bowing  in  Otto's  world.  Then,  whisk!  it  was 
dark,  with  only  the  moon  face  of  the  cathedral  clock 
for  company.  And  as  it  was  now  twenty  minutes 


THE  LETTER  77 

past  seven,  the  two  hands  drooped  until  it  looked  like 
a  face  with  a  cruel  mouth,  and  was  really  very  poor 
company.  , 

Oskar,  having  bowed  himself  into  the  corridor  and 
past  the  two  sentries,  reported  to  a  very  great  dig 
nitary  across  the  hall  that  His  Royal  Highness  the 
Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  in  bed. 
And  the  dignitary  had  a  chance  to  go  away  and  get 
his  dinner. 

But  alone  in  his  great  bed,  the  Crown  Prince  was 
shedding  a  few  shamefaced  tears.  He  was  extremely 
ashamed  of  them.  He  felt  that  under  no  circum 
stances  would  his  soldier  father  have  behaved  so. 
He  reached  out  and  secured  one  of  the  two  clean 
folded  handkerchiefs  that  were  always  placed  on  the 
bedside  stand  at  night,  and  blew  his  nose  very 
loudly.  But  he  could  not  sleep. 

He  gave  Miss  Braithwaite  time  to  go  to  her  sit 
ting-room,  and  for  eight  o'clock  to  pass,  because 
once  every  hour,  all  night,  a  young  gentleman  of  the 
Court,  appointed  for  this  purpose  and  dubbed  a 
"wet-nurse  "  by  jealous  comrades,  cautiously  opened 
his  door  and  made  a  stealthy  circuit  of  the  room,  to 
see  that  all  was  well. 

The  Crown  Prince  got  up.  He  neglected  to  put  on 
his  bedroom  slippers,  of  course,  and  in  his  bare  feet 
he  padded  across  the  room  to  the  study  door.  It  was 
not  entirely  dark.  A  night-light  burned  there.  It 
stood  on  a  table  directly  under  the  two  crossed 
swords.  Beneath  the  swords,  in  a  burnt- wood  frame, 


78  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

were  the  pictures  of  his  father  and  mother.  Hedwig 
had  given  him  a  wood-burning  outfit  at  Christmas, 
and  he  had  done  the  work  himself.  It  consisted  of 
the  royal  arms,  somewhat  out  of  drawing  and  not 
exactly  in  the  center  of  the  frame,  and  a  floral  border 
of  daisies,  extremely  geometrical,  because  he  had 
drawn  them  in  first  with  a  compass. 

The  boy,  however,  gave  the  pictures  only  a  hasty 
glance  and  proceeded,  in  a  business-like  manner,  to 
carry  a  straight  chair  to  the  cabinet.  On  the  top 
shelf  sat  the  old  cloth  dog.  Its  shoe-button  eyes 
looked  glazed  with  sleep,  but  its  ears  were  quite 
alert.  Very  cautiously  the  Crown  Prince  unlocked 
the  door,  stepped  precariously  to  the  lower  shelf  of 
the  cabinet,  hung  there  by  one  royal  hand,  and  lifted 
the  dog  down. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  wet-nurse  took  off  his  sword 
in  another  room  and  leaned  it  against  a  chair.  Then 
he  examined  his  revolver,  in  accordance  with  a  form 
ula  prescribed  by  the  old  King.  Then  he  went  in 
and  examined  the  room  with  a  flashlight,  and  lis 
tened  to  the  Crown  Prince's  breathing.  He  had  been 
a  croupy  baby.  And,  at  last,  he  turned  the  flash 
light  on  to  the  bed.  A  pair  of  shoe-button  eyes  stared 
at  him  from  the  pillow. 

"Well,  I'm  damned,"  said  the  wet-nurse.  And 
went  out,  looking  thoughtful. 


CHAPTER   IX 

A   FINE   NIGHT 

IN  a  shop  where,  that  afternoon,  the  Countess  had 
purchased  some  Lyons  silks,  one  of  the  clerks,  Peter 
Niburg,  was  free  at  last.  At  seven  o'clock,  having 
put  away  the  last  rolls  of  silk  on  the  shelves  behind 
him,  and  covered  them  with  calico  to  keep  off  the 
dust;  having  given  a  final  glance  of  disdain  at  the 
clerk  in  the  linens,  across;  having  reached  under  the 
counter  for  his  stiff  black  hat  of  good  quality  and  his 
silver- topped  cane;  having  donned  the  hat  and  hung 
the  stick  to  his  arm  with  two  swaggering  gestures; 
having  prepared  his  offensive,  so  to  speak,  he  ad 
vanced. 

Between  Peter  Niburg  and  Herman  Spier  of  the 
linens,  was  a  feud.  Its  source,  in  the  person  of  a 
pretty  cashier,  had  gone,  but  the  feud  remained.  It 
was  of  the  sort  that  smiles  with  the  lips  and  scowls 
with  the  eyes,  that  speaks  pleasantly  quite  awful 
things,  although  it  was  Peter  Niburg  who  did  most 
of  the  talking.  Herman  Spier  was  a  moody  individ 
ual,  given  to  brooding.  A  man  who  stood  behind  his 
linens,  and  hated  with  his  head  down. 

And  he  hated  Peter.  God,  how  he  hated  him!  The 
cashier  was  gone,  having  married  a  restaurant 
keeper,  and  already  she  waxed  fat.  But  Herman's 


80  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

hatred  grew  with  the  days.  And  business  being  bad, 
much  of  the  time  he  stood  behind  his  linens  and 
thought  about  a  certain  matter,  which  was  this:  — 

How  did  Peter  Niburg  do  it? 

They  were  paid  the  same  scant  wage.  Each  Mon 
day  they  stood  together,  Peter  smiling  and  he  frown 
ing,  and  received  into  open  palms  exactly  enough  to 
live  on,  without  extras.  And  each  Monday  Peter 
pocketed  his  cheerfully,  and  went  back  to  his  post, 
twirling  his  mustache  as  though  all  the  money  of 
the  realm  jingled  in  his  trousers. 

To  accept  the  inevitable,  to  smile  over  one's 
poverty,  that  is  one  thing.  But  there  was  more  to 
it.  Peter  made  his  money  go  amazingly  far.  It  was 
Peter,  for  instance,  who  on  name-days  had  been  able 
to  present  the  little  cashier  with  a  nosegay.  Which 
had,  by  the  way,  availed  him  nothing  against  the 
delicatessen  offerings  of  the  outside  rival.  When, 
the  summer  before,  the  American  Scenic  Railway  had 
opened  to  the  public,  with  much  crossing  of  flags,  the 
national  emblem  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  it  was 
Peter  who  had  invited  the  lady  to  an  evening  of 
thrills  on  that  same  railway  at  a  definite  sum  per 
thrill.  Nay,  more,  as  Herman  had  seen  with  his  own 
eyes,  taken  her  afterward  to  a  coffee-house,  and 
shared  with  her  a  litre  of  white  wine.  A  litre,  no 
less. 

Herman  himself  had  been  to  the  Scenic  Railway, 
but  only  because  he  occupied  a  small  room  in  the 
house  where  the  American  manager  lived.  The  man- 


A  FINE  NIGHT  81 

ager  had  given  tickets  to  Black  Humbert,  the  con 
cierge,  but  Humbert  was  busy  with  other  things, 
and  was,  besides,  chary  of  foreign  deviltries.  So  he 
had  passed  the  tickets  on. 

It  was  Peter,  then,  who  made  the  impossible  pos 
sible,  who  wore  good  clothes  and  did  not  have  his 
boots  patched,  who  went,  rumor  said,  to  the  Opera 
now  and  then,  and  followed  the  score  on  his  own 
battered  copy. 

How? 

Herman  Spier  had  suspected  him  of  many  things; 
had  secretly  audited  his  cash  slips;  had  watched  him 
for  surreptitious  parcels  of  silk.  Once  he  had  thought 
he  had  him.  But  the  package  of  Lyons  silk,  opened 
by  the  proprietor  at  Herman's  suggestion,  proved  to 
be  material  for  a  fancy  waistcoat,  and  paid  for  by 
Peter  Niburg's  own  hand. 

With  what?  Herman  stood  confused,  even  con 
founded,  but  still  suspicious.  And  now,  this  very 
day,  he  had  stumbled  on  something.  A  great  lady 
from  the  Court  had  made  a  purchase,  and  had  left, 
under  a  roll  of  silk,  a  letter.  There  was  no  mistake. 
And  Peter  Niburg  had  put  away  the  silk,  and  pock 
eted  the  letter,  after  a  swift  glance  over  the  little 
shop. 

An  intrigue,  then,  with  Peter  Niburg  as  the  go-be 
tween,  or  —  something  else.  Something  vastly  more 
important,  the  discovery  of  which  would  bring  Her 
man  prominence  beyond  his  fellows  in  a  certain  se 
cret  order  to  which  he  belonged. 


82  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

In  a  way,  he  was  a  stupid  man,  this  pale-eyed  clerk 
who  sold  the  quaint  red  and  yellow  cottons  of  the 
common  people  side  by  side  with  the  heavy  linens 
that  furnished  forth  the  tables  of  the  rich.  But  hatred 
gave  him  wits.  Gave  him  speed,  too.  He  was  only 
thirty  feet  behind  Peter  Niburg  when  that  foppish 
gentleman  reached  the  corner. 

Herman  was  skilled  in  certain  matters.  He  knew, 
for  instance,  that  a  glance  into  a  shop  window,  a 
halt  to  tie  a  shoe,  may  be  a  ruse  for  passing  a  paper 
to  other  hands.  But  Peter  did  not  stop.  He  went, 
not  more  swiftly  than  usual,  to  his  customary  restau 
rant,  one  which  faced  over  the  Square  and  com 
manded  a  view  of  the  Palace.  And  there  he  settled 
himself  in  a  window  and  ordered  his  dinner. 

From  the  outside  Herman  stared  in.  He  did  not 
dine  there.  It  was,  for  one  thing,  a  matter  of  bit 
terness  to  see  sitting  at  the  cashier's  high  desk,  the 
little  Marie,  grown  somewhat  with  flesh,  it  is  true, 
but  still  lovely  in  his  eyes.  It  made  Herman  wince, 
even  now,  to  see  through  the  window  that  her  hus 
band  patted  her  hand  as  he  brought  her  money  to 
be  changed. 

He  lurked  in  the  shadows  outside,  and  watched. 
Peter  sat  alone.  He  had  bowed  very  stiffly  to  Marie, 
and  had  passed  the  desk  with  his  chest  out.  She  had 
told  him  once  that  he  had  a  fine  figure. 

Peter  sat  alone,  and  stared  out.  Herman  took 
shelter,  and  watched.  But  Peter  Niburg  did  not  see 
him.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  gloomy  mass  across, 


A  FINE  NIGHT  83 

shot  with  small  lights  from  deep  windows,  which  was 
the  Palace. 

Peter  was  calm.  He  had  carried  many  such  let 
ters  as  the  one  now  hidden  in  his  breast  pocket.  No 
conscience  stirred  in  him.  If  he  did  not  do  this  work, 
others  would.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  drank 
his  brandy,  and  glanced  at  Marie.  He  found  her  eyes 
on  him.  Pretty  eyes  they  still  were,  and  just  now 
speculative.  He  smiled  at  her,  but  she  averted 
her  head,  and  colored.  Many  things  filled  Peter  Ni- 
burg's  mind.  If  now  she  was  not  happy,  what  then? 
Her  husband  adored  her.  It  was  fatal.  A  woman 
should  not  be  too  sure  of  a  husband.  And  probably 
he  bored  her.  Another  six  months,  and  perhaps  she 
would  not  turn  away  her  head. 

He  had  until  midnight.  At  that  hour  a  messenger 
would  receive  the  letter  from  him  in  the  colonnade 
of  the  cathedral.  On  this  night,  each  week,  the  mes 
senger  waited.  Sometimes  there  was  a  letter,  some 
times  none.  That  was  all.  It  was  amazingly  simple, 
and  for  it  one  received  the  difference  between  pen 
ury  and  comfort. 

Seeing  Peter  settled,  a  steaming  platter  before 
him,  Herman  turned  and  hurried  through  the  night. 
This  which  he  had  happened  on  was  a  big  thing,  too 
big  for  him  alone.  Two  heads  were  better  than  one. 
He  would  take  advice. 

Off  the  main  avenue  he  fell  into  a  smart  trot.  The 
color  came  to  his  pale  cheeks.  A  cold  sweat  broke 
out  over  him.  He  was  short  of  wind  from  many  cig- 


84  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

arettes.  But  at  last  he  reached  the  house.  It  was 
near  the  park.  Although  the  season  was  early  spring 
and  there  was  more  than  a  hint  of  winter  in  the  air, 
the  Scenic  Railway,  he  perceived,  was  already  open 
for  business.  Certainly  the  Americans  were  enter 
prising. 

The  double  doors  of  the  tall,  gloomy  house  on  the 
Road  of  Good  Children  were  already  closed  for  the 
evening.  As  he  stood  panting,  after  he  had  rung  the 
bell,  Herman  Spier  could  look  across  to  that  remote 
and  unfashionable  end  of  the  great  park  where  the 
people  played  on  pleasant  evenings,  and  where  even 
now,  on  the  heels  of  winter,  the  Scenic  Railway  made 
a  pretense  at  summer. 

The  sight  recalled  that  other  vision  of  Marie  and 
Peter  Niburg,  snugly  settled  in  a  car,  Marie  a  trifle 
pale  and  apprehensive.  Herman  swore  softly,  and 
opened  the  doors. 

Black  Humbert  was  not  in  his  bureau,  behind  the 
grating.  With  easy  familiarity  Herman  turned  to  a 
door  beyond  and  entered.  A  dirty  little  room,  it  was 
littered  now  with  the  preparations  for  a  meal.  On 
the  bare  table  were  a  loaf,  a  jug  of  beer,  and  a  dish  of 
fried  veal.  The  concierge  was  at  the  stove  making 
gravy  in  a  frying-pan  —  a  huge  man,  bearded  and 
heavy  of  girth,  yet  stepping  lightly,  like  a  cat.  A 
dark  man  and  called  "the  Black,"  he  yet  revealed, 
on  full  glance,  eyes  curiously  pale  and  flat. 

No  greeting  passed  between  them.  Humbert  gave 
his  visitor  a  quick  glance.  Herman  closed  the  door, 


A  FINE  NIGHT  85 

and  wiped  out  the  band  of  his  hat.  The  concierge 
poured  the  gravy  over  the  meat. 

"I  have  discovered  something,"  Herman  said. 
"As  to  its  value,  I  know  nothing,  or  its  use  to  us." 

"Let  me  judge  that."  But  the  concierge  was  un 
moved  by  Herman's  excitement.  He  dealt  in  sensa 
tions.  His  daily  tools  were  men  less  clever  than  him 
self,  men  who  constantly  made  worthless  discoveries. 
And  it  was  the  dinner  hour.  His  huge  body  was  cry 
ing  for  food. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  a  letter." 

"Sit  down,  man,  and  tell  it.  Or  do  you  wish  me 
to  draw  the  information,  like  bad  teeth?" 

"A  letter  from  the  Palace,"  said  Herman.  And 
explained. 

Black  Humbert  listened.  He  was  skeptical,  but 
not  entirely  incredulous.  He  knew  the  Court  —  none 
better.  The  women  of  the  Court  wrote  many  letters. 
He  saw  a  number  of  them,  through  one  of  his  men 
in  the  post-office.  There  were  many  intrigues.  After 
all,  who  could  blame  them?  The  Court  was  dreary 
enough  these  days,  and  if  they  chose  to  amuse  them 
selves  as  best  they  could  —  one  must  make  allow 
ances. 

"A  liaison!"  he  said  at  last,  with  his  mouth  full. 
"The  Countess  is  handsome,  and  bored.  Annunciata 
is  driving  her  to  wickedness,  as  she  drove  her  hus 
band.  But  it  is  worth  consideration.  Even  the 
knowledge  of  an  intrigue  is  often  helpful.  Of  what 
size  was  the  letter?" 


86  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

"A  small  envelope.   I  saw  no  more." 

The  concierge  reflected.  "The  Countess  uses  a 
gray  paper  with  a  coronet." 

"This  was  white." 

Black  Humbert  reflected.  "There  is,  of  course,  a 
chance  that  he  has  already  passed  this  on.  But  even 
if  so,  there  will  be  others.  The  Countess  comes  often 
to  the  shop?" 

"Once  in  a  week,  perhaps." 

"So."  The  big  man  rose,  and  untied  his  soiled 
apron.  "Go  back,"  he  said,  "and  enter  the  restau 
rant.  Order  a  small  meal,  that  you  may  have  fin 
ished  when  he  does.  Leave  with  him  and  suggest  the 
Hungaria." 

"Hungaria!  I  have  no  money." 

"You  will  need  no  money.  Now,  mark  this:  At  a 
certain  corner  you  will  be  attacked  and  robbed.  A 
mere  form,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  Herman's  pallid 
face  go  whiter.  "For  the  real  envelope  will  be  sub 
stituted  another.  In  his  breast-pocket,  you  said. 
Well,  then  suggest  going  to  his  room.  He  may , ' '  added 
the  concierge  grimly,  "  require  your  assistance. 
Leave  him  at  his  lodging,  but  watch  the  house.  It  is 
important  to  know  to  whom  he  delivers  these  let 
ters." 

As  the  man  stood,  he  seemed  to  the  cowering  Her 
man  to  swell  until  he  dominated  the  room.  He  took 
on  authority.  To  Herman  came  suddenly  the  mem 
ory  of  a  hidden  room,  and  many  men,  and  one,  huge 
and  towering,  who  held  the  others  in  the  hollow 


A  FINE  NIGHT  87 

of  his  hand.   Herman  turned  to  go,  but  at  the  door 
the  concierge  stopped  him. 

"A  moment,"  he  said.  "We  will  select  first  the 
shape  and  fashion  of  this  envelope  you  saw.  These 
matters  require  finesse." 

He  disappeared,  returning  shortly  with  a  wooden 
box,  filled  to  the  top  with  old  envelopes.  Each  had 
been  neatly  opened  and  its  contents  extracted.  And 
on  each  was  neatly  penned  in  a  corner  the  name  of 
the  sender.  Herman  watched  while  the  concierge 
dug  through  it. 

"Here  it  is,"  he  said  at  last.  "The  Countess,  to 
her  aunt  in  a  nunnery  and  relating  to  wool  knitting. 
See,  is  this  the  sort  of  envelope?" 

"That  is  gray,"  Herman  Spier  said  sullenly. 

"But  in  size?" 

"It  is  similar." 

"Good."  He  held  the  envelope  to  the  light  and  in 
spected  it.  "It  would  be  interesting  to  know,"  he 
said,  "whether  the  Countess  has  an  aunt  in  this 
nunnery,  or  whether  —  but  go,  man.  And  hurry." 

Left  alone,  he  got  together  pens,  ink,  and  carbon 
paper.  He  worked  awkwardly,  his  hands  too  large 
for  the  pen,  his  elbows  spread  wide  over  the  table. 
But  the  result  was  fair.  He  surveyed  it  with  satis 
faction. 

Meanwhile,  back  went  Herman  over  his  earlier 
route.  But  now  he  did  not  run.  His  craven  knees 
shook  beneath  him.  Fresh  sweat,  not  of  haste  but  of 
fear,  broke  out  over  him.  He  who  was  brave  enough 


88  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

of  tongue  in  the  meetings,  who  was  capable  of  rising 
to  heights  of  cruelty  that  amounted  to  ferocity  when 
one  of  a  mob,  was  a  coward  alone. 

However,  the  sight  of  the  restaurant,  and  of 
his  fellow-clerk  eating  calmly,  quieted  him.  Peter 
Niburg  was  still  alone.  Herman  took  a  table  near 
him,  and  ordered  a  bowl  of  soup.  His  hands  shook, 
but  the  hot  food  revived  him.  After  all,  it  was  sim 
ple  enough.  But,  of  course,  it  hinged  entirely  on  his 
fellow-clerk's  agreeing  to  accompany  him. 

He  glanced  across.  Peter  Niburg  was  eating,  but 
his  eyes  were  fixed  on  Madame  Marie,  at  her  high 
desk.  There  was  speculation  in  them,  and  something 
else.  Triumph,  perhaps. 

Suddenly  Herman  became  calm.  Calm  with  hate. 

And,  after  all,  it  was  very  easy.  Peter  Niburg  was 
lonely.  The  burden  of  the  letter  oppressed  him.  He 
wanted  the  comfort  of  human  conversation  and  the 
reassurance  of  a  familiar  face.  When  the  two  met  at 
the  rack  by  the  door  which  contained  their  hats,  his 
expression  was  almost  friendly.  They  went  out  to 
gether. 

"A  fine  night,"  said  Herman,  and  cast  an  eye  at 
the  sky. 

"Fine  enough." 

"Too  good  to  waste  in  sleep.  I  was  thinking," 
observed  Herman,  "of  an  hour  or  two  at  the  Hun- 
garia." 

The  Hungaria!  Something  in  Peter's  pleasure- 
hungry  heart  leaped,  but  he  mocked  his  fellow-clerk. 


A  FINE  NIGHT  89 

"Since  when,"  he  inquired,  "have  you  frequented 
the  Hungaria?" 

"I  feel  in  the  mood,"  was  the  somewhat  sullen 
reply.  "  I  work  hard  enough,  God  knows,  to  have  a 
little  pleasure  now  and  then."  Danger  was  making 
him  shrewd.  He  turned  away  from  Peter  Niburg, 
then  faced  him  again.  "If  you  care  to  come,"  he 
suggested.  "Not  a  supper,  you  understand,  but  a 
glass  of  wine,  Italian  champagne,"  he  added. 

Peter  Niburg  was  fond  of  sweet  champagne. 

Peter  Niburg  pushed  his  hat  to  the  back  of  his 
head,  and  hung  his  stick  over  his  forearm.  After  all, 
why  not?  Marie  was  gone.  Let  the  past  die.  If  Her 
man  could  make  the  first  move,  let  him,  Peter,  make 
the  second.  He  linked  arms  with  his  old  enemy. 

"A  fine  night,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   RIGHT  TO   LIVE  AND  LOVE 

DINNER  was  over  in  the  dull  old  dining-room.  The 
Archduchess  Annunciata  lighted  a  cigarette,  and 
glanced  across  the  table  at  Hedwig. 

Hedwig  had  been  very  silent  during  the  meal.  She 
had  replied  civilly  when  spoken  to,  but  that  was  all. 
Her  mother,  who  had  caught  the  Countess's  trick  of 
narrowing  her  eyes,  inspected  her  from  under  low 
ered  lids. 

"Well?"  she  said.  "Are  you  still  sulky?" 

"I?  Not  at  all,  mother."  Her  head  went  up,  and 
she  confronted  her  mother  squarely. 

"I  should  like  to  inquire,  if  I  may,"  observed  the 
Archduchess,  "just  how  you  have  spent  the  day  — 
until  the  little  divertissement  on  which  I  stumbled. 
This  morning,  for  instance?"  N 

Hedwig  shrugged  her  shoulders,  but  her  color  rose. 
It  came  in  a  soft  wave  over  her  neck  and  mounted 
higher  and  higher.  "Very  quietly,  mother,"  she  said. 

"Naturally.  It  is  always  quiet  here.   But  how?  " 

"I  rode." 

"Where?" 

"At  the  riding-school,  with  Otto." 

"Only  with  Otto?" 

"Captain  Larisch  was  there." 


THE  RIGHT  TO  LIVE  AND  LOVE         91 

"Of  course!  Then  you  have  practically  spent  the 
day  with  him!" 

"  I  have  spent  most  of  the  day  with  Otto." 

"This  devotion  to  Otto  —  it  is  new,  I  think.  You 
were  eager  to  get  out  of  the  nursery.  Now,  it  ap 
pears,  you  must  fly  back  to  schoolroom  teas  and 
other  absurdities.  I  should  like  to  know  why." 

"I  think  Otto  is  lonely,  mother." 

Hilda  took  advantage  of  her  mother's  preoccupa 
tion  to  select  another  peach.  She  was  permitted  only 
one,  being  of  the  age  when  fruit  caused  her,  collo 
quially  speaking,  to  "break  out."  She  was  only 
faintly  interested  in  the  conversation.  She  dreaded 
these  family  meals,  with  her  mother's  sharp  voice 
and  the  Countess  Loschek's  almost  too  soft  one. 
But  now  a  restrained  irritability  in  the  tones  of  the 
Archduchess  made  her  glance  up.  The  Archduchess 
was  in  one  of  her  sudden  moods  of  irritation.  Hed- 
wig's  remark  about  Otto's  loneliness,  the  second 
that  day,  struck  home.  In  her  anger  she  forgot  her 
refusal  to  the  Chancellor. 

"I  have  something  to  say  that  will  put  an  end 
to  this  sentimental  nonsense  of  yours,  Hedwig. 
I  should  forbid  your  seeing  this  boy,  this  young 
Larisch,  if  I  felt  it  necessary.  I  do  not.  You  would 
probably  see  him  anyhow,  for  that  matter.  Which, 
as  I  observed  this  afternoon,  also  reminds  me  un 
pleasantly  of  your  father."  She  rose,  and  threw  her 
bolt  out  of  a  clear  sky.  She  had  had,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  no  previous  intention  of  launching  any  bolt.  It 


92  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

was  wholly  a  result  of  irritation.  "  It  is  unnecessary 
to  remind  you  not  to  make  a  fool  of  yourself.  But  it 
may  not  be  out  of  place  to  say  that  your  grandfather 
has  certain  plans  for  you  that  will  take  your  mind 
away  from  this  —  this  silly  boy,  soon  enough." 

Hedwig  had  risen,  and  was  standing,  very  white, 
with  her  hands  on  the  table.  "What  plans,  mother?  " 

"He  will  tell  you." 

"Not  —  I  am  not  to  be  married?" 

The  Archduchess  Annunciata  was  not  all  hard. 
She  could  never  forgive  her  children  their  father. 
They  reminded  her  daily  of  a  part  of  her  life  that 
she  would  have  put  behind  her.  But  they  were  her 
children,  and  Hedwig  was  all  that  she  was  not,  gen 
tle  and  round  and  young.  Suddenly  something  al 
most  like  regret  stirred  in  her. 

"  Don't  look  like  that,  child,"  she  said.  "  It  is  not 
settled.  And,  after  all,  one  marriage  or  another  — 
what  difference  does  it  make!  Men  are  men.  If  one 
does  not  care,  it  makes  the  things  they  do  unim 
portant." 

"But  surely,"  Hedwig  gasped,  "surely  I  shall  be 
consulted?" 

Annunciata  shook  her  head.  They  had  all  risen 
and  Hilda  was  standing,  the  peach  forgotten,  her 
mouth  a  little  open.  As  for  Olga  Loschek,  she  was 
very  still,  but  her  eyes  burned.  The  Archduchess 
remembered  her  presence  no  more  than  that  of  the 
flowers  on  the  table. 

"Mother,  you  cannot  look  back,  and — and  re- 


THE  RIGHT  TO  LIVE  AND  LOVE         93 

member  your  own  life,  and  allow  me  to  be  wretched. 
You  cannot!" 

Hilda  picked  up  her  peach.  It  was  all  very  excit 
ing,  but  Hedwig  was  being  rather  silly.  Besides,  why 
was  she  so  distracted  when  she  did  not  know  who  the 
man  was?  It  might  be  some  quite  handsome  person. 
For  Hilda  was  also  at  the  age  when  men  were  hand 
some  or  not  handsome,  and  nothing  else. 

Unexpectedly  Hedwig  began  to  cry.  This  Hilda 
considered  going  much  too  far,  and  bad  taste  into 
the  bargain.  She  slipped  the  peach  into  the  waist  of 
her  frock. 

The  Archduchess  hated  tears,  and  her  softer  mo 
ments  were  only  moments.  "Dry  your  eyes,  and 
don't  be  silly,"  she  said  coldly.  "You  have  always 
known  that  something  of  the  sort  was  inevitable." 

She  moved  toward  the  door.  The  two  princesses 
and  her  lady  in  waiting  remained  still  until  she  had 
left  the  table.  Then  they  fell  in  behind  her,  and  the 
little  procession  moved  to  the  stuffy  boudoir,  for 
coffee.  But  Hilda  slipped  her  arm  around  her  sister's 
waist,  and  the  touch  comforted  Hedwig. 

"He  may  be  very  nice,"  Hilda  volunteered  cau 
tiously.  "  Perhaps  it  is  Karl.  I  am  quite  mad  about 
Karl,  myself." 

Hedwig,  however,  was  beyond  listening.  She 
went  slowly  to  a  window,  and  stood  gazing  out. 
Looming  against  the  sky-line,  in  the  very  center  of 
the  Place,  was  the  heroic  figure  of  her  dead  grand 
mother.  She  fell  to  wondering  about  these  royal 


94  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

women  who  had  preceded  her.  Her  mother,  frankly 
unhappy  in  her  marriage,  permanently  embittered ; 
her  grandmother.  Hedwig  had  never  seen  the  King 
young.  She  could  not  picture  him  as  a  lover.  To  her 
he  was  a  fine  and  lonely  figure.  But  romantic?  Had 
he  ever  been  romantic? 

He  had  made  her  mother's  marriage,  and  had 
lived  to  regret  it.  He  would  make  hers.  But  what 
about  the  time  when  he  himself  had  taken  a  wife? 
Hedwig  gazed  at  the  statue.  Had  she  too  come  with 
unwilling  arms?  And  if  she  had,  was  it  true  that 
after  all,  in  a  year  or  a  lifetime,  it  made  no  difference. 

She  slipped  out  on  to  the  balcony  and  closed  the 
curtains  behind  her.  As  her  eyes  grew  accustomed 
to  the  darkness  she  saw  that  there  was  some  one 
below,  under  the  trees.  Her  heart  beat  rapidly.  In  a 
moment  she  was  certain.  It  was  Nikky  down  there, 
Nikky,  gazing  up  at  her  as  a  child  may  look  at  a 
star.  With  a  quick  gesture  Hedwig  drew  the  curtain 
back.  A  thin  ray  of  light  fell  on  her,  on  her  slim  bare 
arms,  on  her  light  draperies,  on  her  young  face.  He 
had  wanted  to  see  her,  and  he  should  see  her.  Then 
she  dropped  the  curtain,  and  twisted  her  hands  to 
gether  lest,  in  spite  of  her,  they  reach  out  toward 
him. 

Did  she  fancy  it,  or  did  the  figure  salute  her? 
Then  came  the  quick  ring  of  heels  on  the  old  stone 
pavement.  She  knew  his  footsteps,  even  as  she  knew 
every  vibrant,  eager  inflection  of  his  voice.  He  went 
away,  across  the  Square,  like  one  who,  having  bent 


THE  RIGHT  TO  LIVE  AND  LOVE         95 

his  knee  to  a  saint,  turns  back  to  the  business  of  the 
world. 

In  the  boudoir  the  Archduchess  had  picked  up 
some  knitting  to  soothe  her  jangled  nerves.  "You 
may  play  now,  Hilda,"  she  said. 

Into  Hilda's  care-free  young  life  came  two  bad 
hours  each  day.  One  was  the  dinner  hour,  when  she 
ate  under  her  mother's  pitiless  eyes.  The  other  was 
the  hour  after  dinner,  when,  alone  in  the  white 
drawing-room  beyond  the  boudoir,  with  the  sliding 
doors  open,  she  sat  at  the  grand  piano,  which  was 
white  and  gold,  like  the  room,  and  as  cold,  and 
played  to  her  mother's  pitiless  ears. 

She  went  slowly  into  the  drawing-room.  Empty, 
it  was  a  dreary  place.  The  heavy  chandeliers  of  gold 
and  cut  glass  were  unlighted.  The  crimson  and  gilt 
chairs  were  covered  with  white  linen.  Only  the 
piano,  a  gleaming  oasis  in  a  desert  of  polished  floor, 
was  lighted,  and  that  by  two  tall  candles  in  gilt 
candlesticks  that  reached  from  the  floor.  Hilda, 
going  reluctantly  to  her  post,  was  the  only  bit  of 
life  and  color  in  the  room. 

At  last  Annunciata  dozed,  and  Hilda  played 
softly.  Played  now,  not  for  her  mother,  but  for 
herself.  And  as  she  played  she  dreamed:  of  Hed- 
wig's  wedding,  of  her  own  debut,  of  Karl,  who  had 
fed  her  romantic  heart  by  treating  her  like  a  woman 
grown. 

The  Countess's  opportunity  had  come.  She  put 
down  the  dreary  embroidery  with  which  she  filled 


96  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

the  drearier  evenings,  and  moved  to  the  window. 
She  walked  quietly,  like  a  cat. 

Her  first  words  to  Hedwig  were  those  of  Peter 
Niburg  as  he  linked  arms  with  his  enemy  and  started 
down  the  street.  "A  fine  night,  Highness,"  she  said. 

Hedwig  raised  her  eyes  to  the  stars.  "It  is  very 
lovely." 

"A  night  to  spend  out-of-doors,  instead  of  being 
shut  up  — "  She  finished  her  sentence  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders. 

Hedwig  was  not  fond  of  the  Countess.  She  did  not 
know  why.  The  truth  being,  of  course,  that  between 
them  lay  the  barrier  of  her  own  innocence.  Hedwig 
could  not  have  put  this  into  words,  would  not,  in 
deed,  if  she  could.  But  when  the  Countess's  arm 
touched  hers,  she  drew  aside. 

"To-night,"  said  the  lady  in  waiting  dreamily,  "  I 
should  like  to  be  in  a  motor,  speeding  over  mountain 
roads.  I  come  from  the  mountains,  you  know.  And 
I  miss  them." 

Hedwig  said  nothing;  she  wished  to  be  alone  with 
her  trouble. 

"In  my  home,  at  this  time  of  the  year,"  the 
Countess  went  on,  still  softly,  "they  are  driving  the 
cattle  up  into  the  mountains  for  the  summer.  At 
night  one  hears  them  going  —  a  bell  far  off  up  the 
mountain-side,  and  sometimes  one  sees  the  light  of  a 
lantern."  r-' 

Hedwig  moved,  a  little  impatiently,  but  as  the 
Countess  went  on,  she  listened.  After  all,  Nikky, 


THE  RIGHT  TO  LIVE  AND  LOVE         97 

too,  came  from  the  mountains.  She  saw  it  all  —  the 
great  herds  moving  with  deliberate  eagerness  al 
ready  sniffing  the  green  slopes  above,  and  the  star  of 
the  distant  lantern.  She  could  even  hear  the  thin 
note  of  the  bell.  And  because  she  was  sorry  for  the 
Countess,  who  was  homesick,  and  perhaps  because 
just  then  she  had  to  speak  to  some  one,  she  turned 
to  her  at  last  with  the  thing  that  filled  her  mind. 

"This  marriage,"  she  said  bitterly.  "Is  it  talked 
about?  Am  I  the  only  one  in  the  palace  who  has  not 
known  about  it?" 

"No,  Highness,  I  had  heard  nothing." 

"But  you  knew  about  it?" 

"Only  what  I  heard  to-night.  Of  course,  there 
are  always  rumors." 

"As  to  the  other,  the  matter  my  mother  referred 
to,"  Hedwig  held  her  head  very  high,  "I  —  she  was 
unjust.  Am  I  never  to  have  any  friends?" 

The  Countess  turned  and,  separating  the  curtains, 
surveyed  the  room  within.  Annunciata  was  asleep, 
and  beyond,  Hilda  was  playing  dreamily,  and  very 
softly,  as  behooves  one  whose  bedtime  is  long  past. 
When  the  Countess  dropped  the  curtain,  she  turned 
abruptly  to  Hedwig. 

"Friends,  Highness?  One  may  have  friends,  of 
course.  It  is  not  friendship  they  fear." 

"What  then?" 

"A  lover,"  said  the  Countess  softly.  "It  is  im 
possible  to  see  Captain  Larisch  in  your  presence,  and 
not  realize  —  " 


98  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"Goon." 

"And  not  realize,  Highness,  that  he  is  in  love  with 
you." 

"How  silly!"  said  the  Princess  Hedwig,  with 
glowing  eyes. 

"But  Highness!"  implored  the  Countess.  "If 
only  you  would  use  a  little  caution.  Open  defiance 
is  its  own  defeat." 

"I  am  not  ashamed  of  what  I  do,"  said  Hed 
wig  hotly. 

"Ashamed!  Of  course  not.  But  things  that  are 
harmless  in  others,  in  your  position  —  you  are 
young.  You  should  have  friends,  gayety.  I  am,"  she 
smiled  grimly  in  the  darkness,  "not  so  old  myself 
but  that  I  can  understand." 

"Who  told  my  mother  that  I  was  having  tea 
with  —  with  Prince  Otto?" 

"These  things  get  about.  Where  there  is  no  gos 
sip,  there  are  plenty  to  invent  it.  And  —  pardon, 
Highness  —  frankness,  openness,  are  not  always 
understood." 

Hedwig  stood  still.  The  old  city  was  preparing  for 
sleep.  In  the  Place  a  few  lovers  loitered,  standing 
close,  and  the  faint  tinkling  of  a  bell  told  of  the 
Blessed  Sacrament  being  carried  through  the  streets 
to  some  bedside  of  the  dying.  Soon  the  priest  came 
into  view,  walking  rapidly,  with  his  skirts  flapping 
around  his  legs.  Before  him  marched  a  boy,  ringing 
a  bell  and  carrying  a  lighted  lamp.  The  priest  bent 
his  steps  through  the  Place,  and  the  lovers  kneeled 


THE  RIGHT  TO  LIVE  AND  LOVE         99 

as  he  passed  by.  The  Princess  Hedwig  bowed  her 
head. 

It  seemed  to  her,  all  at  once,  that  the  world 
was  full  of  wretchedness  and  death,  and  of  separa 
tion,  which  might  be  worse  than  death.  The  lamp, 
passing  behind  trees,  shone  out  fitfully.  The  bell 
tinkled  —  a  thin,  silvery  sound  that  made  her  heart 
ache. 

"I  wish  I  could  help  you,  Highness,"  said  the 
Countess.  "I  should  like  to  see  you  happy.  But 
happiness  does  not  come  of  itself.  We  must  fight 
for  it." 

"Fight?  What  chance  have  I  to  fight?"  Hedwig 
asked  scornfully. 

"One  thing,  of  course,  I  could  do,"  pursued  the 
Countess.  "On  those  days  when  you  wish  to  have 
tea  with  —  His  Royal  Highness,  I  could  arrange, 
perhaps,  to  let  you  know  if  any  member  of  the  fam 
ily  intended  going  to  his  apartments." 

It  was  a  moment  before  Hedwig  comprehended. 
Then  she  turned  to  her  haughtily.  "When  I  wish  to 
have  tea  with  my  cousin,"  she  said  coldly,  "  I  shall 
do  it  openly,  Countess." 

She  left  the  balcony  abruptly,  abandoning  the 
Countess  to  solitary  fury,  the  greater  because  tri 
umph  had  seemed  so  near.  Alone,  she  went  red  and 
white,  bit  her  lips,  behaved  according  to  all  the 
time-honored  traditions.  And  even  swore  —  in  a 
polite,  lady-in-waiting  fashion,  to  be  sure  —  to  get 
even. 


ioo  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Royalties,  as  she  knew  well,  were  difficult  to 
manage.  They  would  go  along  perfectly  well,  and 
act  like  human  beings,  and  rage  and  fuss  and  grieve, 
and  even  weep.  And  then,  quite  unexpectedly,  the 
royal  streak  would  show.  But  royalties  in  love  were 
rather  rare  in  her  experience.  Love  was,  generally 
speaking,  not  a  royal  attribute.  Apparently  it  re 
quired  a  new  set  of  rules. 

Altogether,  the  Countess  Loschek  worked  herself 
to  quite  as  great  a  fury  as  if  her  motives  had  been 
purely  altruistic,  and  not  both  selfish  and  wicked. 

That  night,  while  the  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  hugged  the  woolen  dog  in  his  sleep;  while  the 
Duchess  Hilda,  in  front  of  her  dressing-table,  was 
having  her  hair  brushed;  while  Nikky  roamed  the 
streets  and  saw  nothing  but  the  vision  of  a  girl  on  a 
balcony,  a  girl  who  was  lost  to  him,  although  she  had 
never  been  anything  else,  Hedwig  on  her  knees  at  the 
prie-dieu  in  her  dressing-room  followed  the  example 
of  the  Chancellor,  who,  too,  had  felt  himself  in  a 
tight  corner,  as  one  may  say,  and  was  growing  tired 
of  putting  his  trust  in  princes.  So  Hedwig  prayed  for 
many  things:  for  the  softening  of  hard  hearts;  for 
Nikky's  love;  and,  perhaps  a  trifle  tardily,  for  the 
welfare  and  recovery  of  her  grandfather,  the  King. 
But  mostly  she  prayed  for  happiness,  for  a  bit  of 
light  and  warmth  in  her  gray  days  —  to  be  allowed 
to  live  and  love. 


CHAPTER   XI 

RATHER   A   WILD   NIGHT 

THINGS  were  going  very  wrong  for  Nikky  Larisch. 

Not  handsome,  in  any  exact  sense,  was  Nikky, 
but  tall  and  straight,  with  a  thatch  of  bright  hair 
not  unlike  that  of  the  Crown  Prince,  and  as  unruly. 
Tall  and  straight,  and  occasionally  truculent,  with 
a  narrow  rapier  scar  on  his  left  cheek  to  tell  the  story 
of  wild  student  days,  and  with  two  clear  young  eyes 
that  had  looked  out  humorously  at  the  world  until 
lately.  But  Nikky  was  not  smiling  at  the  world 
these  days. 

Perhaps,  at  the  very  first,  he  had  been  in  love 
with  the  princess,  not  the  woman.  It  had  been 
rather  like  him  to  fix  on  the  unattainable  and  wor 
ship  it  from  afar.  Because,  for  all  the  friendliness  of 
their  growing  intimacy,  Hedwig  was  still  a  star, 
whose  light  touched  him,  but  whose  warmth  was  not 
for  him.  He  would  have  died  fighting  for  her  with 
a  smile  on  his  lips.  There  had  been  times  when  he 
almost  wished  he  might.  He  used  to  figure  out  pleas 
ant  little  dramas,  in  which,  fallen  on  the  battle 
field,  his  last  word,  uttered  in  all  reverence,  was  her 
name.  But  he  had  no  hope  of  living  for  her,  unless, 
of  course,  she  should  happen  to  need  him,  which  was 
most  unlikely.  He  had  no  vanity  whatever,  al- 


102  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

though  in  parade  dress,  with  white  gloves,  he  hoped 
he  cut  a  decent  figure. 

So  she  had  been  his  star,  and  as  cold  and  remote. 
And  then,  that  very  morning,  whether  it  was  the 
new  cross-saddle  suit  or  whatever  it  was,  Hedwig 
had  been  thrown.  Not  badly  —  she  was  too  expert 
for  that.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  feeling  herself  going, 
she  had  flung  two  strong  young  arms  around  her 
horse's  neck,  and  had  almost  succeeded  in  lighting 
on  her  feet.  It  was  not  at  all  dramatic. 

But  Nikky's  heart  had  stopped  beating.  He  had 
lifted  her  up  from  where  she  sat,  half  vexed  and 
wholly  ashamed,  and  carried  her  to  a  chair.  That 
was  all.  But  when  it  was  all  over,  and  Hedwig  was 
only  a  trifle  wobbly  and  horribly  humiliated,  Nikky 
Larisch  knew  the  truth  about  himself,  knew  that  he 
was  in  love  with  the  granddaughter  of  his  King,  and 
that  under  no  conceivable  circumstances  would  he 
ever  be  able  to  tell  her  so.  Knew,  then,  that  happi 
ness  and  he  had  said  a  long  farewell,  and  would 
thereafter  travel  different  roads. 

It  had  stunned  him.  He  had  stood  quite  still  and 
thought  about  it.  And  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  had  caught  him  in  the  act  of  thinking,  and  had 
stood  before  him  and  surveyed  him  anxiously. 

"You  needn't  look  so  worried,  you  know,"  he 
protested.  "She's  not  really  hurt." 

Nikky  came  back,  but  slowly.  He  had  in  a  few 
seconds  already  traveled  a  long  way  along  the  lonely 
road.  But  he  smiled  down  at  the  little  Prince. 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  103 

"But  she  might  have  been,  you  know.  It  —  it 
rather  alarmed  me." 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  for  continuing 
the  subject.  He  blamed  the  accident  on  the  new 
riding-suit,  and  was  royally  outspoken  about  it. 
"And  anyhow,"  he  finished,  "I  don't  like  her  in 
boy's  clothes.  Half  of  her  looks  like  a  girl,  and  the 
rest  does  n't." 

Nikky,  letting  his  eyes  rest  on  her,  realized  that 
all  of  her  to  him  was  wonderful,  and  forever  beyond 
reach. 

So  that  night  he  started  out  to  think  things  over. 
Probably  never  before  in  his  life  had  he  deliberately 
done  such  a  thing.  He  had  never,  as  a  fact,  thought 
much  at  all.  It  had  been  his  comfortable  habit  to 
let  the  day  take  care  of  itself.  Beyond  minor  prob 
lems  of  finance  —  minor  because  his  income  was 
trifling  —  he  had  considered  little.  In  the  last  bor 
der  war  he  had  distinguished  himself  only  when  it 
was  a  matter  of  doing,  not  of  thinking. 

He  was  very  humble  about  himself.  His  young 
swagger  was  a  sort  of  defiance.  And  he  was  not 
subtle.  Taken  suddenly,  through  the  Chancellor's 
favor,  into  the  circles  of  the  Court,  its  intrigues 
and  poisoned  whispers  passed  him  by.  He  did 
not  know  they  existed.  And  he  had  one  creed, 
and  only  one:  to  love  God,  honor  the  King,  and  live 
like  a  gentleman. 

On  this  boy,  then,  with  the  capacity  for  suffering 
of  his  singleminded  type,  had  fallen  the  mantle  of 


104  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

trouble.  It  puzzled  him.  He  did  not  exactly  know 
what  to  do  about  it.  And  it  hurt.  It  hurt  hor 
ribly. 

That  night,  following  the  Archduchess's  confi 
dence,  he  had  stood  under  the  Palace  windows,  in 
the  Place,  and  looked  up.  Not  that  he  expected  to 
see  Hedwig.  He  did  it  instinctively,  turning  toward 
her  hidden  presence  with  a  sort  of  bewildered  yearn 
ing.  Across  his  path,  as  he  turned  away,  had  passed 
the  little  procession  of  the  priest  and  the  Sacrament. 
He  knelt,  as  did  the  lovers  and  the  passers-by,  and 
when  he  got  up  he  followed  the  small  flame  of  the 
lamp  with  his  eyes  as  far  as  he  could  see  it. 

This  was  life,  then.  One  lived  and  suffered  and 
yearned,  and  then  came  death.  Were  there  barriers 
of  rank  over  there?  Or  were  all  equal,  so  that  those 
who  had  loved  on  earth  without  hope  might  meet 
face  to  face?  The  tinkle  of  the  bell  grew  fainter. 
This  weight  that  he  carried,  it  would  be  his  all  his 
life.  And  then,  one  day,  he  too  would  hear  the  bell 
coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and  he  would  die,  without 
having  lived. 

But  he  was  young,  and  the  night  was  crisp  and 
beautiful.  He  took  a  long  breath,  and  looked  up  at 
the  stars.  After  all,  things  might  not  be  so  bad. 
Hedwig  might  refuse  this  marriage.  They  were 
afraid  that  she  would,  or  why  have  asked  his  help? 
When  he  thought  of  King  Karl,  he  drew  himself  up, 
and  his  heels  rang  hard  on  the  pavement.  Karl!  A 
hard  man  and  a  good  king  —  that  was  Karl.  And 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  105 

old.  From  the  full  manhood  of  his  twenty-three 
years  Nikky  surveyed  Karl's  almost  forty,  and  con 
sidered  it  age. 

But  soon  he  was  bitter  again,  bitter  and  jealous. 
Back  there  in  the  palace  they  were  plotting  their 
own  safety,  and  making  a  young  girl  pay  for  it.  He 
swore  softly. 

It  was  typical  of  Nikky  to  decide  that  he  needed 
a  hard  walk.  He  translated  most  of  his  emotions 
into  motion.  So  he  set  off  briskly,  turning  into  the 
crowded  part  of  the  city.  Here  were  narrow,  wind 
ing  streets;  old  houses  that  overhung  above  and 
almost  touched,  shutting  out  all  but  a  thin  line  of 
sky ;  mediaeval  doorways  of  heavy  oak  and  iron  that 
opened  into  courtyards,  where  once  armed  men  had 
lounged,  but  where  now  broken  wagons  and  other 
riffraff  were  stored. 

And  here  it  was  that  Nikky  happened  on  the 
thing  that  was  to  take  him  far  that  night,  and  bring 
about  many  curious  things.  Not  far  ahead  of  him 
two  men  were  talking.  They  went  slowly,  arm  in 
arm.  One  was  talking  loquaciously,  using  his  free 
arm,  on  which  hung  a  cane,  to  gesticulate.  The 
other  walked  with  bent  head. 

Nikky,  pausing  to  light  a  cigarette,  fell  behind. 
But  the  wind  was  tricky,  and  with  his  third  match 
he  stepped  into  a  stone  archway,  lighted  his  ciga 
rette,  buttoned  his  tunic  high  against  the  chill,  and 
emerged  to  a  silent  but  violent  struggle  just  ahead. 
The  two  men  had  been  attacked  by  three  others,  and 


106  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

as  he  stared,  the  loquacious  one  went  down.  In 
stantly  a  huge  figure  of  a  man  outlined  against  the 
light  from  a  street-lamp,  crouched  over  the  pros 
trate  form  of  the  fallen  man.  Even  in  the  imper 
ceptible  second  before  he  started  to  run  toward  the 
group,  Nikky  saw  that  the  silent  one,  unmolested, 
was  looking  on. 

A  moment  later  he  was  in  the  thick  of  things  and 
fighting  gloriously.  His  soldierly  cap  fell  off.  His 
fair  hair  bristled  with  excitement.  He  flung  out 
arms  that  were  both  furious  and  strong,  and  with 
each  blow  the  group  assumed  a  new  formation.  Un 
luckily,  a  great  deal  of  the  fighting  was  done  over 
the  prostrate  form  of  Peter  Niburg. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  group  broke  away,  and  ran 
down  the  street.  He  ran  rather  like  a  kangaroo, 
gathering  his  feet  under  him  and  proceeding  by  a 
series  of  leaps,  almost  as  if  he  were  being  shamefully 
pricked  from  behind.  At  a  corner  he  turned  pale, 
terror-stricken  eyes  back  on  that  sinister  group,  and 
went  on  into  the  labyrinth  of  small  streets. 

But  disaster,  inglorious  disaster,  waited  for 
Nikky.  Peter  Niburg,  face  down  on  the  pavement, 
was  groaning,  and  Nikky  had  felled  one  man  and 
was  starting  on  a  second  with  the  fighting  appetite 
of  twenty-three,  when  something  happened.  One 
moment  Nikky  was  smiling,  with  a  cut  lip,  and  hair 
in  his  eyes,  and  the  next  he  was  dropped  like  an  ox, 
by  a  blow  from  behind.  Landing  between  his  shoul 
der-blades,  it  jerked  his  head  back  with  a  snap,  and 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  107 

sent  him  reeling,  A  second  followed,  delivered  by  a 
huge  fist. 

Down  went  Nikky,  and  lay  still. 

The  town  slept  on.  Street  brawls  were  not  uncom 
mon,  especially  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Hun- 
garia.  Those  who  roused  grumbled  about  quarrel 
some  students,  and  slept  again. 

Perhaps  two  minutes  later,  Nikky  got  up.  He 
was  another  minute  in  locating  himself.  His  cap 
lay  in  the  gutter.  Beside  him,  on  his  back,  lay  a 
sprawling  and  stertorous  figure,  with,  so  quick  the 
downfall,  a  cane  still  hooked  to  his  arm. 

Nikky  bent  over  Peter  Niburg.  Bending  over 
made  his  head  ache  abominably. 

"Here,  man!"  he  said.  "Get  up!  Rouse  your 
self!" 

Peter  Niburg  made  an  inarticulate  reference  to  a 
piece  of  silk  of  certain  quality,  and  lay  still.  But  his 
eyes  opened  slowly,  and  he  stared  up  at  the  stars. 
"A  fine  night,"  he  said  thickly.  "A  very  fine  —  " 
Suddenly  he  raised  himself  to  a  sitting  posture.  Ter 
ror  gave  him  strength.  "  I  Ve  been  robbed,"  he  said. 
"Robbed.  I  am  ruined.  I  am  dead." 

"Tut,"  said  Nikky,  mopping  his  cut  lip.  "  If  you 
are  dead,  your  spirit  speaks  with  an  uncommonly 
lusty  voice!  Come,  get  up.  We  present  together  a 
shameful  picture  of  defeat." 

But  he  raised  Peter  Niburg  gently  from  the 
ground  and,  finding  his  knees  unstable,  from  fright 
or  weakness,  stood  him  against  a  house  wall.  Peter 


io8  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Niburg,  with  rolling  eyes,  felt  for  his  letter,  and,  the 
saints  be  praised,  found  it. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  and  straightened  up.  "After  all, 
it  is  not  so  bad  as  I  feared.  They  got  nothing." 

He  made  a  manful  effort  to  walk,  but  tottered, 
reeled.  Nikky  caught  him. 

"Careful!"  he  said.  "The  colossus  was  doubtless 
the  one  who  got  us  both,  and  we  are  likely  to  feel  his 
weight  for  some  time.  Where  do  you  live?" 

Peter  Niburg  was  not  for  saying.  He  would  have 
preferred  to  pursue  his  solitary  if  uncertain  way. 
But  Nikky  was  no  half  Samaritan.  Toward  Peter 
Niburg's  lodging,  then,  they  made  a  slow  progress. 

"These  recent  gentlemen,"  said  Nikky,  as  they 
went  along,  "they  are,  perhaps,  personal  enemies?" 

"I  do  not  know.   I  saw  nothing." 

"One  was  very  large,  a  giant  of  a  man.  Do  you 
know  such  a  man?" 

Peter  Niburg  reflected.  He  thought  not.  "But 
I  know  why  they  came,"  he  said  unguardedly. 
"Some  early  morning,  my  friend,  you  will  hear  of 
a  man  lying  dead  in  the  street.  That  man  will 
be  I." 

"The  thought  has  a  moral,"  observed  Nikky. 
"Do  not  trust  yourself  out-of-doors  at  night." 

But  he  saw  that  Peter  Niburg  kept  his  hand  over 
his  breast-pocket. 

Never  having  dealt  in  mysteries,  Nikky  was  slow 
at  recognizing  one.  But,  he  reflected,  many  things 
were  going  on  in  the  old  city  in  these  troubled  days. 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  109 

Came  to  Nikky,  all  at  once,  that  this  man  on  his 
arm  might  be  one  of  the  hidden  eyes  of  Govern 
ment. 

"These  are  difficult  times,"  he  ventured,  "for 
those  who  are  loyal." 

Peter  Niburg  gave  him  a  sidelong  glance.  "  Diffi 
cult  indeed,"  he  said  briefly. 

"But,"  said  Nikky,  "perhaps  we  fear  too  much. 
The  people  love  the  boy  Prince.  And  without  the 
people  revolution  can  accomplish  nothing." 

"Nothing  at  all,"  assented  Peter  Niburg. 

"I  think,"  Nikky  observed,  finding  his  compan 
ion  unresponsive,  "that,  after  I  see  you  safely  home, 
I  shall  report  this  small  matter  to  the  police.  Surely 
there  cannot  be  in  the  city  many  such  gorillas  as 
our  friend  with  the  beard  and  the  huge  body." 

But  here  Peter  Niburg  turned  even  paler.  "  Not  — 
not  the  police!"  he  stammered. 

"But  why?  You  and  I,  my  friend,  will  carry  their 
insignia  for  some  days.  I  have  a  mind  to  pay  our 
debts." 

Peter  Niburg  considered.  He  stopped  and  faced 
Nikky.  "I  do  not  wish  the  police,"  he  said.  "Per 
haps  I  have  said  too  little.  This  is  a  private  matter. 
An  affair  of  jealousy." 

"I  see!" 

"Naturally,  not  a  matter  for  publicity." 

"Very  well,"  Nikky  assented.  But  in  his  mind 
was  rising  dark  suspicion.  He  had  stumbled  on 
something.  He  cursed  his  stupidity  that  it  meant,  so 


I io  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

far,  nothing  more  than  a  mystery  to  him.  He  did  not 
pride  himself  on  his  intelligence. 

"You  were  not  alone,  I  think?" 

Peter  Niburg  suddenly  remembered  Herman,  and 
stopped. 

"Your  friend  must  have  escaped." 

"He  would  escape,"  said  Peter  Niburg  scornfully. 
"He  is  of  the  type  that  runs." 

He  lapsed  into  sullen  silence.  Soon  he  paused 
before  a  quiet  house,  one  of  the  many  which  housed 
in  cavernous  depths  uncounted  clerks  and  other 
small  fry  of  the  city.  "Good-night  to  you,"  said 
Peter  Niburg.  Then,  rather  tardily.  "And  my 
thanks.  But  for  you  I  should  now  — "  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"Good-night,  friend,"  said  Nikky.  "And  better 
keep  your  bed  to-morrow." 

He  had  turned  away,  and  Peter  Niburg  entered 
the  house. 

Nikky  inspected  himself  in  the  glow  of  a  street 
lamp.  Save  for  some  dust,  and  a  swollen  lip,  which 
he  could  not  see,  he  was  not  unpresentable.  Well 
enough,  anyhow,  for  the  empty  streets.  But  before 
he  started  he  looked  the  house  and  the  neighbor 
hood  over  carefully.  He  might  wish  to  return  to  that 
house. 

For  two  hours  he  walked,  and  resumed  his  inter 
rupted  train  of  thought  —  past  the  gloomy  Univer 
sity  buildings,  past  the  quay,  where  sailed  the  ves 
sels  that  during  peaceful  times  went  along  the  Ar 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  in 

through  the  low  lands  of  Karnia  to  the  sea.  •  At  last, 
having  almost  circled  the  city,  he  came  to  the  Cathe 
dral.  It  was  nearly  midnight  by  the  clock  in  the  high 
tower.  He  stopped  and  consulted  his  watch.  The 
fancy  took  him  to  go  up  the  high  steps,  and  look  out 
over  the  city  from  the  colonnade. 

Once  there,  he  stood  leaning  against  a  column, 
looking  out.  The  sleeping  town  appealed  to  him. 
Just  so  had  it  lain  in  old  feudal  times,  clustered 
about  the  church  and  the  Palace,  and  looking  to 
both  for  protection.  It  had  grown  since  then,  had 
extended  beyond  the  walls  which  sheltered  it,  had 
now  destroyed  those  walls  and,  filling  in  the  moat, 
had  built  thereon  its  circling  parks.  And  other 
things  had  changed.  No  longer,  he  reflected  gloom 
ily,  did  it  look  to  the  palace,  save  writh  tolerance  and 
occasional  disloyalty.  The  old  order  was  changing. 
And,  with  all  his  hot  young  heart,  Nikky  was  for  the 
old  order. 

There  was  some  one  coming  along  the  quiet 
streets,  with  a  stealthy,  shuffling  gait  that  caught 
his  attention.  So,  for  instance,  might  a  weary  or  a 
wounded  man  drag  along.  Exactly  so,  indeed,  had 
Peter  Niburg  shambled  into  his  house  but  two  hours 
gone. 

The  footsteps  paused,  hesitated,  commenced  a 
painful  struggle  up  the  ascent.  Nikky  moved  be 
hind  his  column,  and  waited.  Up  and  up,  weary  step 
after  weary  step.  The  shadowy  figure,  coming  close, 
took  a  form,  became  a  man  —  became  Peter  Niburg. 


ii2  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Now,  indeed,  Nikky  roused.  Beaten  and  sorely 
bruised,  Peter  Niburg  should  have  been  in  bed. 
What  stealthy  business  of  the  night  brought  him 
out? 

Fortunately  for  Nikky's  hiding-place,  the  last 
step  or  two  proved  too  much  for  the  spy.  He 
groaned,  and  sat  down  painfully,  near  the  top.  His 
head  lolled  forward,  and  he  supported  it  on  two 
shaking  hands.  Thus  he  sat,  huddled  and  miserable, 
for  five  minutes  or  thereabouts.  The  chime  rang  out 
overhead  the  old  hymn  which  the  little  Crown 
Prince  so  often  sang  to  it :  — 

"  Draw  me  also,  Mary  mild, 
To  adore  Thee  and  thy  Child ! 

Mary  mild, 
Star  in  desert  drear  and  wild." 

Time  had  gone  since  the  old  church  stood  in  a 
desert  drear  and  wild,  but  still  its  chimes  rang  the 
old  petition,  hour  after  hour. 

At  ten  minutes  past  the  hour,  Nikky  heard  the 
engine  of  an  automobile.  No  machine  came  in 
sight,  but  the  throbbing  kept  on,  from  which  he 
judged  that  a  car  had  been  stopped  around  the  cor 
ner.  Peter  Niburg  heard  it,  and  rose.  A  moment 
later  a  man,  with  the  springiness  of  youth,  mounted 
the  steps  and  confronted  the  messenger. 

Nikky  saw  a  great  light.  When  Peter  Niburg  put 
his  hand  to  his  breast-pocket,  there  was  no  longer 
room  for  doubt,  nor,  for  that  matter,  time  for  think 
ing.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  never  afterward  could 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  113 

Nikky  recall  thinking  at  all.  He  moved  away 
quietly,  hidden  by  the  shadows  of  the  colonnade. 
Behind  him,  on  the  steps,  the  two  men  were  talking. 
Peter  Niburg's  nasal  voice  had  taken  on  a  whining 
note.  Short,  gruff  syllables  replied.  Absorbed  in 
themselves  and  their  business,  they  neither  heard 
nor  saw  the  figure  that  slipped  through  the  colon 
nade,  and  dropped,  a  blood-curdling  drop,  from  the 
high  end  of  it  to  the  street  below. 

Nikky's  first  impulse,  beside  the  car,  was  to  cut  a 
tire.  By  getting  his  opponent  into  a  stooping  posi 
tion,  over  the  damaged  wheel,  it  would  be  easier  to 
overcome  him.  But  a  hasty  search  revealed  that  he 
had  lost  his  knife  in  the  melee.  And  second  thought 
gave  him  a  better  plan.  After  all,  to  get  the  letter 
was  not  everything.  To  know  its  destination  would 
be  important.  He  had  no  time  to  think  further.  The 
messenger  was  coming  down  the  steps,  not  stealth 
ily,  but  clattering,  with  the  ring  of  nails  in  the  heels 
of  heavy  boots. 

Nikky  flung  his  long  length  into  the  tonneau,  and 
there  crouched.  It  was  dark  enough  to  conceal  him, 
but  Nikky's  was  a  large  body  in  a  small  place.  How 
ever,  the  chauffeur  only  glanced  at  the  car,  kicked  a 
tire  with  a  practiced  foot,  and  got  in. 

He  headed  for  the  open  country.  Very  soon  his 
passenger  knew  that  he  was  in  for  a  long  ride  pos 
sibly,  a  cold  ride  certainly.  Within  the  city  limits 
the  car  moved  decorously,  but  when  the  suburbs 
were  reached,  the  driver  put  on  all  his  power.  He 


H4  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

drove  carefully,  too,  as  one  who  must  make  haste 
but  cannot  afford  accident, 

Nikky  grew  very  uncomfortable.  His  long  legs 
ached.  The  place  between  the  shoulders  where  the 
concierge  had  landed  his  powerful  blows  throbbed 
and  beat.  Also  he  was  puzzled,  and  he  hated  being 
puzzled.  He  was  unarmed,  too.  He  disliked  that 
most  of  all.  Generally  speaking,  he  felt  his  position 
humiliating.  He  was  a  soldier,  not  a  spy.  His  train 
ing  had  been  to  fight,  not  to  hide  and  watch. 

After  a  time  he  raised  his  head.  He  made  out  that 
they  were  going  east,  toward  the  mountains,  and  he 
cursed  the  luck  that  had  left  his  revolver  at  home. 
Still  he  had  no  plan  but  to  watch.  Two  hours'  ride, 
at  their  present  rate,  would  take  them  over  the  bor 
der  and  into  Karnia. 

Nikky,  although  no  thinker,  was  not  a  fool,  and 
he  knew  rather  better  than  most  what  dangers 
threatened  the  country  from  outside  as  well.  Also, 
in  the  back  of  his  impulsive  head  was  a  sort  of 
dogged  quality  that  was  near  to  obstinacy.  He  had 
started  this  thing  and  he  would  see  it  through.  And 
as  the  car  approached  the  border,  he  began  to  real 
ize  that  this  was  not  of  the  Terrorists  at  home,  but 
something  sinister,  abroad. 

With  a  squealing  of  brakes  the  machine  drew  up 
at  the  frontier.  Here  was  a  chain  across  the  high 
way,  with  two  sets  of  guards.  Long  before  they 
reached  it,  a  sentry  stepped  into  the  road  and  waved 
his  lantern. 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  115 

Nikky  burrowed  lower  into  the  car,  and  at 
tempted  to  look  like  a  rug.  In  the  silence,  while  the 
sentry  evidently  examined  a  passport  and  flashed 
a  lantern  over  the  chauffeur,  Nikky  cursed  the  tick 
ing  of  his  watch,  the  beating  of  his  own  heart. 

Then  came  a  clanking  as  the  chain  dropped  in  the 
road.  The  car  bumped  over  it,  and  halted  again. 
The  same  formalities,  this  time  by  Karnian  sentries. 
A  bit  more  danger,  too,  for  the  captain  in  charge  of 
the  guard  asked  for  matches,  and  dangled  a  careless 
hand  over  the  side,  within  a  few  inches  of  Nikky's 
head.  Then  the  jerk  following  a  hasty  letting-in  of 
the  clutch,  and  they  were  off  again. 

For  some  time  they  climbed  steadily.  But  Nikky, 
who  knew  the  road,  bided  his  time.  Then  at  last,  at 
two  o'clock,  came  the  steep  ascent  to  the  very  crest 
of  the  mountain,  and  a  falling-back,  gear  by  gear, 
until  they  climbed  slowly  in  the  lowest. 

Nikky  unfolded  his  length  quietly.  The  gears 
were  grinding,  the  driver  bent  low  over  his  wheel. 
Very  deliberately,  now  that  he  knew  what  he  was 
going  to  do,  Nikky  unbuttoned  his  tunic  and  slipped 
it  off.  It  was  a  rash  thing,  this  plan  he  had  in  mind, 
rash  under  any  circumstances,  in  a  moving  car  - 
particularly  rash  here,  where  between  the  cliff  and  a 
precipice  that  fell  far  away  below,  was  only  a  wind 
ing  ribbon  of  uneven  road. 

Here,  at  the  crucial  moment,  undoubtedly  he 
should  have  given  a  last  thought  to  Hedwig.  But 
alas  for  romance!  As  a  matter  of  honesty,  he  had 


ii6  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

completely  forgotten  Hedwig.  This  was  his  work, 
and  with  even  the  hottest  of  lovers,  work  and  love 
are  things  apart. 

So  he  waited  his  moment,  loveless,  as  one  may 
say,  and  then,  with  one  singularly  efficient  gesture, 
he  flung  his  tunic  over  the  chauffeur's  head.  He 
drove  a  car  himself,  did  Nikky  —  not  his  own,  of 
course;  he  was  far  too  poor  —  and  he  counted  on 
one  thing:  an  automobile  driver  acts  from  the  spinal 
cord,  and  not  from  the  brain.  Therefore  his  brain 
may  be  seething  with  a  thousand  frenzies,  but  he 
will  shove  out  clutch  and  brake  feet  in  an  emer 
gency,  and  hold  them  out. 

So  it  happened.  The  man's  hands  left  the  wheel, 
but  he  stopped  his  car.  Not  too  soon.  Not  before  it 
had  struck  the  cliff,  and  then  taken  a  sickening  curve 
out  toward  the  edge  of  the  precipice.  But  stop  it 
did,  on  the  very  edge  of  eternity,  and  the  chauffeur 
held  it  there. 

"Set  the  hand  brake!"  Nikky  said.  The  lamps 
were  near  enough  the  edge  to  make  him  dizzy. 

The  chauffeur  ceased  struggling,  and  set  the  hand 
brake.  His  head  was  still  covered.  But  having  done 
that,  he  commenced  a  struggle  more  furious  than 
forceful,  for  both  of  them  were  handicapped.  But 
Nikky  had  steel-like  young  arms  from  which  escape 
was  impossible. 

And  now  Nikky  was  forced  to  an  unsoldier-like 
thing  that  he  afterward  tried  to  forget.  For  the 
driver  developed  unexpected  strength,  refused  to 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  117 

submit,  got  the  tunic  off  his  head,  and,  seeing  him 
self  attacked  by  one  man  only,  took  courage  and 
fell  to.  He  picked  up  a  wrench  from  the  seat  beside 
him,  and  made  a  furious  pass  at  Nikky's  head. 
Nikky  ducked  and,  after  a  struggle,  secured  the 
weapon.  All  this  in  the  car,  over  the  seat  back. 

It  was  then  that  Nikky  raised  the  wrench  and 
stunned  his  man  with  it.  It  was  hateful.  The  very 
dull  thud  of  it  was  sickening.  And  there  was  a 
bad  minute  or  two  when  he  thought  he  had  killed 
his  opponent.  The  man  had  sunk  down  in  his  seat, 
a  sodden  lump  of  inanimate  human  flesh.  And 
Nikky,  whose  business,  in  a  way,  was  killing,  was 
horrified. 

He  tried  to  find  the  pulse,  but  failed  —  which  was 
not  surprising,  since  he  had  the  wrong  side  of  the 
wrist.  Then  the  unconscious  man  groaned.  For  a 
moment,  as  he  stood  over  him,  Nikky  reflected  that 
he  was  having  rather  a  murderous  night  of  it. 

The  chauffeur  wakened,  ten  minutes  later,  to  find 
himself  securely  tied  with  his  own  towing  rope,  and 
lying  extremely  close  to  the  edge  of  death.  Beside 
him  on  the  ground  sat  a  steady-eyed  young  man 
with  a  cut  lip.  The  young  man  had  lighted  a  ciga 
rette,  and  was  placing  it  carefully  in  the  uninjured 
side  of  his  mouth. 

"Just  as  soon  as  you  are  up  to  it,"  said  Nikky, 
"we  shall  have  a  little  talk." 

The  chauffeur  muttered  something  in  the  peasant 
patois  of  Karnia. 


ii8  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"Come,  come!"  Nikky  observed.  "Speak  up. 
No  hiding  behind  strange  tongues.  But  first,  I  have 
the  letter.  That  saves  your  worrying  about  it.  You 
can  clear  your  mind  for  action."  Suddenly  Nikky 
dropped  his  mocking  tone.  To  be  quite  frank,  now 
that  the  man  was  not  dead,  and  Nikky  had  the 
letter,  he  rather  fancied  himself.  But  make  no  mis 
take —  he  was  in  earnest,  grim  and  deadly  earnest. 

"I  have  a  fancy,  my  friend,"  he  said,  "to  take 
that  letter  of  yours  on  to  its  destination.  But  what 
that  destination  is,  you  are  to  tell  me." 

The  man  on  the  ground  grinned  sardonically. 
"You  know  better  than  to  ask  that,"  he  said.  "I 
will  never  tell  you." 

Nikky  had  thought  things  out  fairly  well,  for  him, 
in  that  ten  minutes.  In  a  business-like  fashion  he 
turned  the  prostrate  prisoner  on  his  side,  so  that  he 
faced  toward  the  chasm.  A  late  moon  showed  its 
depth,  and  the  valley  in  which  the  Ar  flowed  swiftly. 
And  having  thus  faced  him  toward  the  next  world, 
Nikky,  throwing  away  his  cigarette  because  it  hurt 
his  lip,  put  a  stone  or  two  from  the  roadway  behind 
his  prisoner,  and  anchored  him  there.  Then  he  sat 
down  and  waited.  Except  that  his  ears  were  burn 
ing,  he  was  very  calm. 

"Any  news?"  he  asked,  at  the  end  of  ten  minutes' 
unbroken  silence. 

His  prisoner  said  nothing.  He  was  thinking, 
doubtless.  Weighing  things,  too,  —  perhaps  life 
against  betrayal,  a  family  against  separation. 


RATHER  A  WILD  NIGHT  119 

Nikky  examined  the  letter  again.  It  was  ad 
dressed  to  a  border  town  in  Livonia.  But  the  town 
lay  far  behind  them.  The  address,  then,  was  a  false 
one.  He  whistled  softly.  He  was  not,  as  a  fact,  as 
calm  as  he  looked.  He  had  never  thrown  a  man  over 
a  precipice  before,  and  he  disliked  the  idea.  —  For 
tunately,  his  prisoner  did  not  know  this.  Besides, 
suppose  he  did  push  him  over?  Dead  men  are  ex 
tremely  useless  about  telling  things.  It  would,  as  a 
fact,  leave  matters  no  better  than  before.  Rather 
worse. 

Half  an  hour. 

''Come,  come,"  said  Nikky  fiercely.  "We  are 
losing  time."  He  looked  fierce,  too.  His  swollen 
lip  did  that.  And  he  was  nervous.  It  occurred  to 
him  that  his  prisoner,  in  desperation,  might  roll  over 
the  edge  himself,  which  would  be  most  uncomfort 
able. 

But  the  precipice,  and  Nikky's  fierce  lip,  and  other 
things,  had  got  in  their  work.  The  man  on  the 
ground  stopped  muttering  in  his  patois,  and  turned 
on  Nikky  eyes  full  of  hate. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  he  said.  "And  you  will  free 
me.  And  after  that  — " 

"Certainly,"  Nikky  replied  equably.  "You  will 
follow  me  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  —  although  that 
will  not  be  necessary,  because  I  don't  intend  to  go 
there  —  and  finish  me  off."  Then,  sternly:  "Now, 
where  does  the  letter  go?  I  have  a  fancy  for  deliver 
ing  it  myself." 


120  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"If  I  tell  you,  what  then?" 

"This:  If  you  tell  me  properly,  and  all  goes  well, 
I  will  return  and  release  you.  If  I  do  not  return, 
naturally  you  will  not  be  released.  And,  for  fear 
you  meditate  a  treachery,  I  shall  gag  you  and  leave 
you,  not  here,  but  back  a  short  distance,  in  the  wood 
we  just  passed.  And,  because  you  are  a  brave  man, 
and  this  thing  may  be  less  serious  than  I  think  it  is, 
I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  that,  if  you  advise  me 
correctly,  I  shall  return  and  liberate  you." 

He  was  very  proud  of  his  plan.  He  had  thought  it 
out  carefully.  He  had  everything  to  gain  and  noth 
ing  to  lose  by  it  —  except,  perhaps,  his  life.  The 
point  was,  that  he  knew  he  could  not  take  a  citizen 
of  Karnia  prisoner,  because  too  many  things  would 
follow,  possibly  a  war. 

"  It's  a  reasonable  proposition,"  he  observed.  "  If 
I  come  back,  you  are  all  right.  If  I  do  not,  there  are 
a  number  of  disagreeable  possibilities  for  you." 

"I  have  only  your  word." 

"And  I  yours,"  said  Nikky. 

The  chauffeur  took  a  final  glance  around,  as  far 
as  he  could  see,  and  a  final  shuddering  look  at  the 
valley  of  the  Ar,  far  below.  "I  will  tell  you,"  he 
said  sullenly. 


CHAPTER  XII 

TWO    PRISONERS 

HERMAN  SPIER  had  made  his  escape  with  the  letter. 
He  ran  through  tortuous  byways  of  the  old  city, 
under  arches  into  courtyards,  out  again  by  doorways 
set  in  walls,  twisted,  doubled  like  a  rabbit.  And 
all  this  with  no  pursuit,  save  the  pricking  one  of 
terror. 

But  at  last  he  halted,  looked  about,  perceived  that 
only  his  own  guilty  conscience  accused  him,  and 
took  breath.  He  made  his  way  to  the  house  in  the 
Road  of  the  Good  Children,  the  letter  now  buttoned 
inside  his  coat,  and,  finding  the  doors  closed,  lurked 
in  the  shadow  of  the  park  until,  an  hour  later,  Black 
Humbert  himself  appeared. 

He  eyed  his  creature  with  cold  anger.  "It  is  a 
marvel,"  he  sneered,  "that  such  flight  as  yours  has 
not  brought  the  police  in  a  pack  at  your  heels." 

"I  had  the  letter,"  Herman  replied  sulkily.  "It 
was  necessary  to  save  it." 

"You  were  to  see  where  Niburg  took  the  substi 
tute." 

But  here  Herman  was  the  one  to  sneer.  "Ni 
burg!"  he  said.  "You  know  well  enough  that  he 
will  take  no  substitute  to-night,  or  any  night.  You 
strike  hard,  my  friend." 


122  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

The  concierge  growled,  and  together  they  entered 
the  house  across  the  street. 

In  the  absence  of  Humbert,  his  niece,  daughter  of 
a  milk-seller  near,  kept  the  bureau,  answered  the 
bell,  and  after  nine  o'clock,  when  the  doors  were 
bolted,  admitted  the  various  occupants  of  the  house 
and  gave  them  the  tiny  tapers  with  which  to  light 
themselves  upstairs.  She  was  sewing  and  singing 
softly  when  they  entered.  Herman  Spier's  pale  face 
colored.  He  suspected  the  girl  of  a  softness  for  him, 
not  entirely  borne  out  by  the  facts.  So  he  straight 
ened  his  ready-made  tie,  which  hooked  to  his  collar- 
button,  and  ogled  her. 

"All  right,  girl.  You  may  go,"  said  Humbert. 
His  huge  bulk  seemed  to  fill  the  little  room. 

"Good-night  to  you  both,"  the  girl  said,  and  gave 
Herman  Spier  a  nod.  When  she  was  gone,  the  con 
cierge  locked  the  door  behind  her. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  "for  a  look  at  the  treasure." 

He  rubbed  his  hands  together  as  Herman  pro 
duced  the  letter.  Heads  close,  they  examined  it 
under  the  lamp.  Then  they  glanced  at  each  other. 

"A  cipher,"  said  the  concierge  shortly.  "It  tells 
nothing." 

It  was  a  moment  of  intense  disappointment.  In 
Humbert's  mind  had  been  forming,  for  the  past  hour 
or  two,  a  plan  —  nothing  less  than  to  go  himself 
before  the  Council  and,  with  the  letter  in  hand,  to 
point  out  certain  things  which  would  be  valuable. 
In  this  way  he  would  serve  both  the  party  and  him- 


TWO   PRISONERS  123 

self.  Preferment  would  follow.  He  could  demand, 
under  the  coming  republic,  some  high  office.  Al 
ready,  of  course,  he  was  known  to  the  Committee, 
and  known  well,  but  rather  for  brawn  than  brain. 
They  used  him.  Now  — 

"Code!"  he  said.  And  struck  the  paper  with  a 
hairy  fist.  "Everything  goes  wrong.  That  blond 
devil  interferes,  and  now  this  letter  speaks  but  of 
blankets  and  loaves!" 

The  bell  rang,  and,  taking  care  to  thrust  the  letter 
out  of  sight,  the  concierge  disappeared.  Then  en 
sued,  in  the  hall,  a  short  colloquy,  followed  by  a 
thumping  on  the  staircase.  The  concierge  returned. 

"Old  Adelbert,  from  the  Opera,"  he  said.  "He 
has  lost  his  position,  and  would  have  spent  the  night 
airing  his  grievance.  But  I  sent  him  off!" 

Herman  turned  his  pale  eyes  toward  the  giant. 
"So!"  he  said.  And  after  a  pause,  "He  has  some 
influence  among  the  veterans." 

"And  is  Royalist  to  his  marrow,"  sneered  the 
concierge.  He  took  the  letter  out  again  and,  bring 
ing  a  lamp,  went  over  it  carefully.  It  was  signed 
merely  "Olga."  "Blankets  and  loaves!"  he  fumed. 

Now,  as  between  the  two,  Black  Humbert  fur 
nished  evil  and  strength,  but  it  was  the  pallid  clerk 
who  furnished  the  cunning.  And  now  he  made  a 
suggestion. 

"It  is  possible,"  he  said,  "that  he  —  upstairs  — 
could  help." 

"Adelbert?  Are  you  mad?" 


124  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"The  other.  He  knows  codes.  It  was  by  means 
of  one  we  caught  him.  I  have  heard  that  all  these 
things  have  one  basis,  and  a  simple  one." 

The  concierge  considered.  Then  he  rose.  "It  is 
worth  trying,"  he  observed. 

He  thrust  the  letter  into  his  pocket,  and  the  two 
conspirators  went  out  into  the  gloomy  hall.  There, 
on  a  ledge,  lay  the  white  tapers,  and  one  he  lighted, 
shielding  it  from  the  draft  in  the  hollow  of  his  great 
hand.  Then  he  led  the  way  to  the  top  of  the  house. 

Here  were  three  rooms.  One,  the  best,  was  Her 
man  Spier's,  a  poor  thing  at  that.  Next  to  it  was  old 
Adelbert's.  As  they  passed  the  door  they  could  hear 
him  within,  muttering  to  himself.  At  the  extreme 
end  of  the  narrow  corridor,  in  a  passage  almost 
blocked  by  old  furniture,  was  another  room,  a  sort 
of  attic,  with  a  slanting  roof. 

Making  sure  that  old  Adelbert  did  not  hear  them, 
they  went  back  to  this  door,  which  the  concierge 
unlocked.  Inside  the  room  was  dark.  The  taper 
showed  little.  As  their  eyes  became  accustomed  to 
the  darkness,  the  outlines  of  the  attic  stood  revealed, 
a  junk-room,  piled  high  with  old  trunks,  and  in  one 
corner  a  bed. 

Black  Humbert,  taper  in  hand,  approached  the 
bed.  Herman  remained  near  the  door.  Now,  with 
the  candle  near,  the  bed  revealed  a  man  lying  on  it, 
and  tied  with  knotted  ropes;  a  young  man,  with 
sunken  cheeks  and  weary,  desperate  eyes.  Beside 
him,  on  a  chair,  were  the  fragments  of  a  meal,  a  bit 


TWO  PRISONERS  125 

of  broken  bread,  some  cold  soup,  on  which  grease 
had  formed  a  firm  coating. 

Lying  there,  sleeping  and  waking  and  sleeping 
again,  young  Haeckel,  one  time  of  His  Majesty's 
secret  service  and  student  in  the  University,  had 
lost  track  of  the  days.  He  knew  not  how  long  he  had 
been  a  prisoner,  except  that  it  had  been  eternities. 
Twice  a  day,  morning  and  evening,  came  his  jailer 
and  loosened  his  bonds,  brought  food,  of  a  sort,  and 
allowed  him,  not  out  of  mercy,  but  because  it  was 
the  Committee's  pleasure  that  for  a  time  he  should 
live,  to  move  about  the  room  and  bring  the  blood 
again  to  his  numbed  limbs. 

He  was  to  live  because  he  knew  many  things 
which  the  Committee  would  know.  But,  as  the 
concierge  daily  reminded  him,  there  was  a  limit  to 
mercy  and  to  patience. 

In  the  mean  time  they  held  him,  a  hostage  against 
certain  contingencies.  Held  him  and  kept  him 
barely  alive.  Already  he  tottered  about  the  room 
when  his  bonds  were  removed ;  but  his  eyes  did  not 
falter,  or  his  courage.  Those  whom  he  had  served 
so  well,  he  felt,  would  not  forget  him.  And  mean 
while,  knowing  what  he  knew,  he  would  die  before 
he  became  the  tool  of  these  workers  in  the  dark. 

So  he  lay  and  thought,  and  slept  when  thinking 
became  unbearable,  and  thus  went  his  days  and  the 
long  nights. 

The  concierge  untied  him,  and  stood  back. 
"Now,"  he  said. 


126  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

But  the  boy  —  he  was  no  more  —  lay  still.  He 
made  one  effort  to  rise,  and  fell  back. 

"Up  with  you!"  said  the  concierge,  and  jerked 
him  to  his  feet.  He  caught  the  rail  of  the  bed,  or  he 
would  have  fallen.  "Now  —  stand  like  a  man." 

He  stood  then,  facing  his  captors  without  defiance. 
He  had  worn  all  that  out  in  the  first  days  of  his  im 
prisonment.  He  was  in  shirt  and  trousers  only,  his 
feet  bare,  his  face  unshaven  —  the  thin  first  beard 
of  early  manhood. 

"Well?"  he  said  at  last.  "I  thought  —  you Ve 
been  here  once  to-night." 

"Right,  my  cuckoo.  But  to-night  I  do  you  double 
honor." 

But  seeing  that  Haeckel  was  swaying,  he  turned 
to  Herman  Spier.  "Go  down,"  he  said,  "and  bring 
up  some  brandy.  He  can  do  nothing  for  us  in  this 
state." 

He  drank  the  brandy  eagerly  when  it  came,  and 
the  concierge  poured  him  a  second  quantity.  What 
with  weakness  and  slow  starvation,  it  did  what  no 
threat  of  personal  danger  would  have  done.  It  broke 
down  his  resistance.  Not  immediately.  He  fought 
hard,  when  the  matter  was  first  broached  to  him. 
But  in  the  end  he  took  the  letter  and,  holding  it 
close  to  the  candle,  he  examined  it  closely.  His 
hands  shook,  his  eyes  burned.  The  two  Terrorists 
watched  him  narrowly. 

Brandy  or  no  brandy,  however,  he  had  not  lost  his 
wits.  He  glanced  up  suddenly.  "Tell  me  something 


TWO  PRISONERS  127 

about  this,"  he  said.  "And  what  will  you  do  for  me 
if  I  decode  it?" 

The  concierge  would  promise  anything,  and  did. 
Haeckel  listened,  and  knew  the  offer  of  liberty 
was  a  lie.  But  there  was  something  about  the 
story  of  the  letter  itself  that  bore  the  hall-marks  of 
truth. 

"You  see,"  finished  Black  Humbert  cunningly, 
"she  —  this  lady  of  the  Court  —  is  plotting  with 
someone,  or  so  we  suspect.  If  it  is  only  a  liaison  — !" 
He  spread  his  hands.  "  If,  as  is  possible,  she  betrays 
us  to  Karnia,  that  we  should  find  out.  It  is  not,"  he 
added,  "among  our  plans  that  Karnia  should  know 
too  much  of  us." 

"Who  is  it?" 

"I  cannot  betray  a  lady,"  said  Black  Humbert, 
and  leered. 

The  brandy  was  still  working,  but  the  spy's  mind 
was  clear.  He  asked  for  a  pencil,  and  set  to  work. 
After  all,  if  there  was  a  spy  of  Karl's  in  the  Palace, 
it  were  well  to  know  it.  He  tried  complicated  meth 
ods  first,  to  find  that  the  body  of  the  letter,  after  all, 
was  simple  enough.  By  reading  every  tenth  wrord, 
he  got  a  consistent  message,  save  that  certain  sup 
plies,  over  which  the  concierge  had  railed,  were 
special  code  words  for  certain  regiments.  These  he 
could  not  decipher.  .*• 

"Whoever  was  to  receive  this,"  he  said  at  last, 
"would  have  been  in  possession  of  complete  data  of 
the  army,  equipment  and  all,  and  the  location  of 


128  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

various  regiments.  Probably  you  and  your  band 
of  murderers  have  that  already." 

The  concierge  nodded,  no  whit  ruffled.  "And  for 
whom  was  it  intended?" 

"I  cannot  say.  The  address  is  fictitious,  of 
course." 

Black  Humbert  scowled.  "So!"  he  said.  "You 
tell  us  only  a  part!" 

"There  is  nothing  else  to  tell.  Save,  as  I  have 
written  here,  the  writer  ends:  'I  must  see  you  at 
once.  Let  me  know  where.' ' 

The  brandy  was  getting  in  its  work  well  by  that 
time.  He  was  feeling  strong,  his  own  man  again,  and 
reckless.  But  he  was  cunning,  too.  He  yawned. 
"And  in  return  for  all  this,  what?"  he  demanded. 
"I  have  done  you  a  service,  friend  cut-throat." 

The  concierge  stuffed  letter  and  translation  into 
his  pocket.  "What  would  you  have,  short  of 
liberty?" 

"Air,  for  one  thing."  He  stood  up  and  stretched 
again.  God,  how  strong  he  felt!  "  If  you  would  open 
that  accursed  window  for  an  hour  —  the  place 
reeks." 

Humbert  was  in  high  good  humor  in  spite  of  his 
protests.  In  his  pocket  he  held  the  key  to  favor, 
aye,  to  a  plan  which  he  meant  to  lay  before  the 
Committee  of  Ten,  a  plan  breath-taking  in  its 
audacity  and  yet  potential  of  success.  He  went  to 
the  window  and  put  his  great  shoulder  against  it. 

Instantly  Haeckel  overturned  the  candle  and, 


TWO  PRISONERS  129 

picking  up  the  chair,  hurled  it  at  Herman  Spier. 
He  heard  the  clerk  go  down  as  he  leaped  for  the 
door.  Herman  had  not  locked  it.  He  was  in  the 
passage  before  the  concierge  had  stumbled  past  the 
bed. 

On  the  stairs  his  lightness  counted.  His  bare  feet 
made  no  sound.  He  could  hear  behind  him  the  great 
mass  of  Humbert,  hurling  itself  down.  Haeckel  ran 
as  he  had  never  run  before.  The  last  flight  now,  with 
the  concierge  well  behind,  and  liberty  two  seconds 
away. 

He  flung  himself  against  the  doors  to  the  street. 
But  they  were  fastened  by  a  chain,  and  the  key  was 
not  in  the  lock. 

He  crumpled  up  in  a  heap  as  the  concierge  fell  on 
him  with  fists  like  flails. 

Some  time  later,  old  Adelbert  heard  a  sound  in  the 
corridor,  and  peered  out.  Humbert,  assisted  by  the 
lodger,  Spier,  was  carrying  to  the  attic  what  ap 
peared  to  be  an  old  mattress,  rolled  up  and  covered 
with  rags.  In  the  morning,  outside  the  door,  there 
was  a  darkish  stain,  however,  which  might  have 
been  blood. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN    THE    PARK 

AT  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  Chancellor 
visited  the  Crown  Prince.  He  came  without  cere 
mony.  Lately  he  had  been  coming  often.  He  liked 
to  come  in  quietly,  and  sit  for  an  hour  in  the  school 
room,  saying  nothing.  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  found  these  occasions  rather  trying. 

"I  should  think,"  he  protested  once  to  his  gov 
erness,  "that  he  would  have  something  else  to  do. 
He's  the  Chancellor,  is  n't  he?" 

But  on  this  occasion  the  Chancellor  had  an  errand, 
the  product  of  careful  thought.  Early  as  it  was,  al 
ready  he  had  read  his  morning  mail  in  his  study,  had 
dictated  his  replies,  had  eaten  a  frugal  breakfast  of 
fruit  and  sausage,  and  in  the  small  inner  room  which 
had  heard  so  many  secrets,  had  listened  to  the  re 
ports  of  his  agents,  and  of  the  King's  physicians. 
Neither  had  been  reassuring. 

The  King  had  passed  a  bad  night,  and  Haeckel 
was  still  missing.  The  Chancellor's  heart  was 
heavy. 

The  Chancellor  watched  the  Crowrn  Prince,  as  he 
sat  at  the  high  desk,  laboriously  writing.  It  was  the 
hour  of  English  composition,  and  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  was  writing  a  theme. 


IN  THE  PARK  131 

"About  dogs,"  he  explained.  "I've  seen  a  great 
many,  you  know.  I  could  do  it  better  with  a  pencil. 
My  pen  sticks  in  the  paper." 

He  wrote  on,  and  Mettlich  sat  and  watched. 
From  the  boy  his  gaze  wandered  over  the  room.  He 
knew  it  well.  Not  so  many  years  ago  he  had  visited 
in  this  very  room  another  bright-haired  lad,  whose 
pen  had  also  stuck  in  the  paper.  The  Chancellor 
looked  up  at  the  crossed  swords,  and  something  like 
a  mist  came  into  his  keen  old  eyes. 

He  caught  Miss  Braithwaite's  glance,  and  he 
knew  what  was  in  her  mind.  For  nine  years  now 
had  come,  once  a  year,  the  painful  anniversary  of 
the  death  of  the  late  Crown  Prince  and  his  young 
wife.  For  nine  years  had  the  city  mourned,  with 
flags  at  half-mast  and  the  bronze  statue  of  the  old 
queen  draped  in  black.  And  for  nine  years  had  the 
day  of  grief  passed  unnoticed  by  the  lad  on  whom 
hung  the  destinies  of  the  kingdom. 

Now  they  confronted  a  new  situation.  The  next 
day  but  one  was  the  anniversary  again.  The  boy 
was  older,  and  observant.  It  would  not  be  possible 
to  conceal  from  him  the  significance  of  the  proces 
sion  marching  through  the  streets  with  muffled 
drums.  Even  the  previous  year  he  had  demanded 
the  reason  for  crape  on  his  grandmother's  statue, 
and  had  been  put  off,  at  the  cost  of  Miss  Braith 
waite's  strong  feeling  for  the  truth.  Also  he  had  not 
been  allowed  to  see  the  morning  paper,  which  was, 
on  these  anniversaries,  bordered  with  black.  This 


132  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

had  annoyed  him.  The  Crown  Prince  always  read 
the  morning  paper  —  especially  the  weather  fore 
cast. 

They  could  not  continue  to  lie  to  the  boy.  Truth 
fulness  had  been  one  of  the  rules  of  his  rigorous  up 
bringing.  And  he  was  now  of  an  age  to  remember. 
So  the  Chancellor  sat  and  waited,  and  fingered  his 
heavy  watch-chain. 

Suddenly  the  Crown  Prince  looked  up.  "Have 
you  ever  been  on  a  scenic  railway?"  he  inquired 
politely. 

The  Chancellor  regretted  that  he  had  not. 

"It's  very  remarkable,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto.  "But  unless  you  like  excitement, 
perhaps  you  would  not  care  for  it." 

The  Chancellor  observed  that  he  had  had  his 
share  of  excitement,  in  his  time,  and  was  now  for  the 
ways  of  quiet. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  a  great  many 
things  to  say,  but  thought  better  of  it.  Miss  Braith- 
waite  disliked  Americans,  for  instance,  and  it  was 
quite  possible  that  the  Chancellor  did  also.  It 
seemed  strange  about  Americans.  Either  one  liked 
them  a  great  deal,  or  not  at  all.  He  put  his  attention 
to  the  theme,  and  finished  it.  Then,  flushed  with 
authorship,  he  looked  up.  "  May  I  read  you  the  last 
line  of  it?"  he  demanded  of  the  Chancellor. 

"I  shall  be  honored,  Highness."  Not  often  did 
the  Chancellor  say  "Highness."  Generally  he  said 
"Otto  "or  "my  child." 


IN  THE  PARK  133 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  read  aloud,  with 
dancing  eyes,  his  last  line:  "'I  should  like  to  own  a 
dog.'  I  thought,"  he  said  wistfully,  "that  I  might 
ask  my  grandfather  for  one." 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not  have  a  dog," 
the  Chancellor  observed. 

"Not  one  to  be  kept  at  the  stables,"  Otto  ex 
plained.  "One  to  stay  with  me  all  the  time.  One  to 
sleep  on  the  foot  of  the  bed." 

But  here  the  Chancellor  threw  up  his  hands.  In 
stantly  he  visualized  all  the  objections  to  dogs,  from 
fleas  to  rabies.  And  he  put  the  difficulties  into 
words.  No  mean  speaker  was  the  Chancellor  when 
so  minded.  He  was  a  master  of  style,  of  arrange 
ment,  of  logic  and  reasoning.  He  spoke  at  length, 
even,  at  the  end,  rising  and  pacing  a  few  steps  up 
and  down  the  room.  But  when  he  had  concluded, 
when  the  dog,  so  to  speak,  had  fled  yelping  to  the 
country  of  dead  hopes,  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  merely  gulped,  and  said:  — 

"Well,  I  wish  I  could  have  a  dog!" 

The  Chancellor  changed  his  tactics  by  changing 
the  subject.  "I  was  wondering  this  morning,  as  I 
crossed  the  park,  if  you  would  enjoy  an  excursion 
soon.  Could  it  be  managed,  Miss  Braithwaite?" 

"I  dare  say,"  said  Miss  Braithwaite  dryly.  "Al 
though  I  must  say,  if  there  is  no  improvement  in 
punctuation  and  capital  letters — " 

"What  sort  of  excursion?"  asked  His  Royal  High 
ness,  guardedly.  He  did  not  care  for  picture  galleries. 


134  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"Out-of-doors,  to  see  something  interesting." 

But  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  cautious 
with  the  caution  of  one  who,  by  hoping  little,  may 
be  agreeably  disappointed.  "A  corner-stone,  I  sup 
pose,"  he  said. 

"Not  a  corner-stone,"  said  the  Chancellor,  with 
eyes  that  began  to  twinkle  under  ferocious  brows. 
"No,  Otto.  A  real  excursion,  up  the  river." 

"To  the  fort?   I  do  want  to  see  the  new  fort." 

As  a  matter  of  truth,  the  Chancellor  had  not 
thought  of  the  fort.  But  like  many  another  before 
him,  he  accepted  the  suggestion  and  made  it  his  own. 
"To  the  fort,  of  course,"  said  he. 

"And  take  luncheon  along,  and  eat  it  there,  and 
have  Hedwig  and  Nikky?  And  see  the  guns?" 

But  this  was  going  too  fast.  Nikky,  of  course, 
would  go,  and  if  the  Princess  cared  to,  she  too.  But 
luncheon!  It  was  necessary  to  remind  the  Crown 
Prince  that  the  officers  at  the  fort  would  expect  to 
have  him  join  their  mess.  There  was  a  short  parley 
over  this,  and  it  was  finally  settled  that  the  officers 
should  serve  luncheon,  but  that  there  should  be  no 
speeches.  The  Crown  Prince  had  already  learned 
that  his  presence  was  a  sort  of  rod  of  Aaron,  to  un 
loose  floods  of  speeches.  Through  \vhat  outpourings 
of  oratory  he  had  sat  or  stood,  in  his  almost  ten 
years ! 

"Then  that's  settled,"  he  said  at  last.  "I'm 
very  happy.  This  morning  I  shall  apologize  to 
M.  Puaux." 


IN  THE  PARK  135 

During  the  remainder  of  the  morning  the  Crown 
Prince  made  various  excursions  to  the  window  to  see 
if  the  weather  was  holding  good.  Also  he  asked, 
during  his  half-hour's  intermission,  for  the  great  box 
of  lead  soldiers  that  was  locked  away  in  the  cabinet. 
"  I  shall  pretend  that  the  desk  is  a  fort,  Miss  Braith- 
waite,"  he  said.  "Do  you  mind  being  the  enemy, 
and  pretending  to  be  shot  now  and  then?" 

But  Miss  Braithwaite  was  correcting  papers.  She 
was  willing  to  be  a  passive  enemy  and  be  potted  at, 
but  she  drew  the  line  at  falling  over.  Prince  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto  did  not  persist.  He  was  far  too 
polite.  But  he  wished  in  all  his  soul  that  Nikky 
would  come.  Nikky,  he  felt,  would  die  often  and 
hard. 

But  Nikky  did  not  come. 

Came  German  and  French,  mathematics  and 
music  —  and  no  Nikky.  Came  at  last  the  riding- 
hour  —  and  still  no  Nikky. 

At  twelve  o'clock,  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto, 
clad  in  his  riding-garments  of  tweed  knickers,  put 
tees,  and  a  belted  jacket,  stood  by  the  schoolroom 
window  and  looked  out.  The  inner  windows  of  his 
suite  faced  the  courtyard,  but  the  schoolroom 
opened  over  the  Place  —  a  bad  arrangement  surely, 
seeing  what  distractions  to  lessons  may  take  place 
in  a  public  square,  what  pigeons  feeding  in  the  sun, 
what  bands  with  drums  and  drum-majors,  what 
children  flying  kites. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  the  Crown  Prince  said 


136  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

plaintively.  "He  is  generally  very  punctual.  Per 
haps—" 

But  he  loyally  refused  to  finish  the  sentence. 
The  "perhaps"  was  a  grievous  thought,  nothing  less 
than  that  Nikky  and  Hedwig  were  at  that  moment 
riding  in  the  ring  together,  and  had  both  forgotten 
him.  He  was  rather  used  to  being  forgotten.  With 
the  exception  of  Miss  Braithwaite,  he  was  nobody's 
business,  really.  His  aunt  forgot  him  frequently. 
On  Wednesdays  it  was  his  privilege  —  or  not,  as  you 
think  of  it  —  to  take  luncheon  with  the  Arch 
duchess;  and  once  in  so  often  she  would  forget  and 
go  out.  Or  be  in,  and  not  expecting  him,  which  was 
as  bad. 

"Bless  us,  I  forgot  the  child,"  she  would  say  on 
these  occasions. 

But  until  now,  Nikky  had  never  forgotten.  He 
had  been  the  soul  of  remembering,  indeed,  and 
rather  more  than  punctual.  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  consulted  his  watch.  It  was  of  gold, 
and  on  the  inside  was  engraved :  — 

"To  Ferdinand  William  Otto  from  his  grand 
father,  on  the  occasion  of  his  taking  his  first  com 
munion." 

"It's  getting  rather  late,"  he  observed. 

Miss  Braithwaite  looked  troubled.  "No  doubt 
something  has  detained  him,"  she  said,  with  unusual 
gentleness.  "You  might  work  at  the  frame  for  your 
Cousin  Hedwig.  Then,  if  Captain  Larisch  comes, 
you  can  still  have  a  part  of  your  lesson." 


IN  THE  PARK  137 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  brightened.  The 
burnt-wood  photograph  frame  for  Hedwig  was  his 
delight.  And  yesterday,  as  a  punishment  for  the 
escapade  of  the  day  before,  it  had  been  put  away 
with  an  alarming  air  of  finality.  He  had  traced  the 
design  himself,  from  a  Christmas  card,  and  it  had 
originally  consisted  of  a  ring  and  small  Cupids,  al 
ternating  with  hearts.  He  liked  it  very  much.  The 
Cupids  were  engagingly  fat.  However,  Miss  Braith- 
waite  had  not  approved  of  their  state  of  nature,  and 
it  had  been  necessary  to  drape  them  with  sashes  tied 
in  neat  bows. 

The  pyrography  outfit  was  produced,  and  for  fif 
teen  minutes  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  la 
bored,  his  head  on  one  side,  his  royal  tongue  slightly 
protruded.  But,  above  the  thin  blue  smoke  of  burn 
ing,  his  face  remained  wistful.  He  was  afraid,  ter 
ribly  afraid,  that  he  had  been  forgotten  again. 

"I  hope  Nikky  is  not  ill,"  he  said  once.  "He 
smokes  a  great  many  cigarettes.  He  says  he  knows 
they  are  bad  for  him." 

"Certainly  they  are  bad  for  him,"  said  Miss 
Braithwaite.  "They  contain  nicotine,  which  is  a 
violent  poison.  A  drop  of  nicotine  on  the  tongue  of 
a  dog  will  kill  it." 

The  reference  was  unfortunate. 

"I  wish  I  might  have  a  dog,"  observed  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto. 

Fortunately,  at  that  moment,  Hedwig  came  in. 
She  came  in  a  trifle  defiantly,  although  that  passed 


138  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

unnoticed,  and  she  also  came  unannounced,  as  was 
her  cousinly  privilege.  And  she  stood  inside  the  door 
and  stared  at  the  Prince.  "Well!"  she  said. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  equal  to  the 
occasion.  He  hastily  drew  out  his  pocket-handker 
chief  and  spread  it  over  the  frame.  But  his  face  was 
rather  red.  A  palace  is  a  most  difficult  place  to  have 
a  secret  in. 

"Well?"  she  repeated,  with  a  rising  inflection.  It 
was  clear  that  she  had  not  noticed  the  handker 
chief  incident.  "Is  there  to  be  no  riding-lesson 
to-day?" 

"  I  don't  know.   Nikky  has  not  come." 

"Where  is  he?" 

Here  the  drop  of  nicotine  got  in  its  deadly  work. 
"  I  'm  afraid  he  is  ill,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto.  "He  said  he  smoked  too  many  cigarettes, 
and—" 

"Is  Captain  Larisch  ill?"  Hedwig  looked  at  the 
governess,  and  lost  some  of  her  bright  color. 

Miss  Braithwaite  did  not  know,  and  said  so. 
"At  the  very  least,"  she  went  on,  "he  should  have 
sent  some  word.  I  do  not  know  what  things  are 
coming  to.  Since  His  Majesty's  illness,  no  one  seems 
to  have  any  responsibility,  or  to  take  any." 

"But  of  course  he  would  have  sent  word,"  said 
Hedwig,  frowning.  "  I  don't  understand  it.  He  has 
never  been  so  late  before,  has  he?" 

"He  has  never  been  late  at  all,"  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  spoke  up  quickly. 


IN  THE  PARK  139 

After  a  time  Hedwig  went  away,  and  the  Crown 
Prince  took  off  his  riding-clothes.  He  ate  a  very 
small  luncheon,  swallowing  mostly  a  glass  of  milk 
and  a  lump  in  his  throat.  And  afterward  he  worked 
at  the  frame,  for  an  hour,  shading  the  hearts  care 
fully.  At  three  o'clock  he  went  for  his  drive. 

There  were  two  variations  to  the  daily  drive: 
One  day  they  went  up  the  river  —  almost  as  far  as 
the  monastery ;  the  next  day  they  went  through  the 
park.  There  was  always  an  excitement  about  the 
park  drive,  because  the  people  who  spied  the  gold- 
wheeled  carriage  always  came  as  close  as  possible, 
to  see  if  it  was  really  the  Crown  Prince.  And  when, 
as  sometimes  happened,  it  was  only  Hedwig,  or 
Hilda,  and  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  been  kept 
at  home  by  a  cold,  they  always  looked  disappointed. 

This  was  the  park  day.  The  horses  moved  se 
dately.  Beppo  looked  severe  and  haughty.  A 
strange  man,  in  the  place  of  Hans,  beside  Beppo, 
watched  the  crowd  with  keen  and  vigilant  eyes.  On 
the  box  between  them,  under  his  hand,  the  new  foot 
man  had  placed  a  revolver.  Beppo  sat  as  far  away 
from  it  as  he  dared.  The  crowd  lined  up,  and  smiled 
and  cheered.  And  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto 
sat  very  straight,  and  bowed  right  and  left,  smiling. 

Old  Adelbert,  limping  across  the  park  to  the 
Opera,  paused  and  looked.  Then  he  shook  his  head. 
The  country  was  indeed  come  to  a  strange  pass,  with 
only  that  boy  and  the  feeble  old  King  to  stand  be 
tween  it  and  the  things  of  which  men  whispered 


140  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

behind  their  hands.  He  went  on,  with  his  head 
down.  A  strange  pass  indeed,  with  revolution 
abroad  in  quiet  places,  and  a  cabal  among  the  gov 
ernors  of  the  Opera  to  sell  the  opera-glass  privilege 
to  the  highest  bidder. 

He  went  on,  full  of  trouble. 

Olga,  the  wardrobe  woman,  was  also  on  her  way 
to  the  Opera,  which  faced  the  park.  She  also  saw 
the  carriage,  and  at  first  her  eyes  twinkled.  It  was 
he,  of  course.  The  daring  of  him!  But,  as  the  car 
nage  drew  nearer,  she  bent  forward.  He  looked  pale, 
and  there  was  a  wistful  droop  to  his  mouth.  "They 
have  punished  him  for  the  little  prank,"  she  mut 
tered.  "That  tight-faced  Englishwoman,  of  course. 
The  English  are  a  hard  race."  She,  too,  went  on. 

As  they  drew  near  the  end  of  the  park,  where  the 
Land  of  Desire  towered,  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  searched  it  with  eager  eyes.  How  wonderful  it 
was!  How  steep  and  high,  and  alluring!  He  glanced 
sideways  at  Miss  Braithwaite,  but  it  was  clear  that 
to  her  it  was  only  a  monstrous  heap  of  sheet-iron 
and  steel,  adorned  with  dejected  greenery  that  had 
manifestly  been  out  too  soon  in  the  chill  air  of  very 
early  spring. 

A  wonderful  possibility  presented  itself.  "  If  I  see 
Bobby,"  he  asked,  "may  I  stop  the  carriage  and 
speak  to  him?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Well,  may  I  call  to  him?" 

"Think  it  over,"   suggested   Miss  Braithwaite. 


IN  THE  PARK  141 

"Would  your  grandfather  like  to  know  that  you 
had  done  anything  so  undignified?" 

He  turned  to  her  a  rather  desperate  pair  of  eyes. 
"But  I  could  explain  to  him,"  he  said.  "I  was  in 
such  a  hurry  when  I  left,  that  I  'm  afraid  I  forgot  to 
thank  him.  I  ought  to  thank  him,  really.  He  was 
very  polite  to  me." 

Miss  Braithwaite  sat  still  in  her  seat  and  said 
nothing.  The  novelty  of  riding  in  a  royal  carriage 
had  long  since  passed  away,  but  she  was  aware  that 
her  position  was  most  unusual.  Not  often  did  a 
governess,  even  of  good  family,  as  she  was,  ride 
daily  in  the  park  with  a  crown  prince.  In  a  way,  on 
these  occasions,  she  was  more  royal  than  royalty. 
She  had,  now  and  then,  an  inclination  to  bow  right 
and  left  herself.  And  she  guarded  the  dignity  of 
these  occasions  with  a  watchful  eye.  So  she  said 
nothing  just  then.  But  later  on  something  occurred 
to  her.  "You  must  remember,  Otto,"  she  said, 
"that  this  —  this  American  child  dislikes  kings,  and 
our  sort  of  government."  Shades  of  Mr.  Gladstone 
—  our  sort  of  government!  "  It  is  possible,  is  n't  it, 
that  he  would  resent  your  being  of  the  ruling  family? 
Why  not  let  things  be  as  they  are?" 

"We  were  very  friendly,"  said  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  in  a  small  voice.  "  I  don't  think  it  would  make 
any  difference." 

But  the  seed  was  sown  in  the  fertile  ground  of  his 
young  mind,  to  bear  quick  fruit. 

It  was  the  Crown  Prince  who  saw  Bobby  first. 


142  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

He  was  standing  on  a  bench,  peering  over  the  shoul 
ders  of  the  crowd.  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto 
saw  him,  and  bent  forward.  "There  he  is!"  he  said, 
in  a  tense  tone.  "There  on  the  — " 

"Sit  up  straight,"  commanded  Miss  Braithwaite. 

"May  I  just  wave  once?  I  — " 

"Otto!"  said  Miss  Braithwaite,  in  a  terrible  voice. 

But  a  dreadful  thing  was  happening.  Bobby  was 
looking  directly  at  him,  and  making  no  sign.  His 
mouth  was  a  trifle  open,  but  that  was  all.  Otto  had 
a  momentary  glimpse  of  him,  of  the  small  cap  set 
far  back,  of  the  white  sweater,  of  two  coolly  critical 
eyes.  Then  the  crowd  closed  up,  and  the  carriage 
moved  on. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  sat  back  in  his 
seat,  very  pale.  Clearly  Bobby  was  through  with 
him.  First  Nikky  had  forgotten  him,  and  now  the 
American  boy  had  learned  his  unfortunate  position 
as  one  of  the  detested  order,  and  would  have  none 
of  him. 

"You  see,"  said  Miss  Braithwaite,  with  an  air  of 
relief,  "he  did  not  know  you." 

Up  on  the  box  the  man  beside  Beppo  kept  his 
hand  on  the  revolver.  The  carriage  turned  back 
toward  the  Palace. 

Late  that  afternoon  the  Chancellor  had  a  visitor. 
Old  Mathilde,  his  servant  and  housekeeper,  showed 
some  curiosity  but  little  excitement  over  it.  She 
was,  in  fact,  faintly  resentful.  The  Chancellor  had 


IN  THE  PARK  143 

eaten  little  all  day,  and  now,  when  she  had  an  omelet 
ready  to  turn  smoking,  out  of  the  pan,  must  come  the 
Princess  Hedwig  on  foot  like  the  common  people, 
and  demand  to  see  him. 

Mathilde  admitted  her,  and  surveyed  her  uncom 
promisingly.  Royalties  were  quite  as  much  in  her 
line  as  they  were  in  the  Crown  Prince's. 

"He  is  about  to  have  supper,  Highness." 

"Please,  Mathilde,"  begged  Hedwig.  "It  is  very 
important." 

Mathilde  sighed.  "As  Your  Highness  wishes," 
she  agreed,  and  went  grumblingly  back  to  the  study 
overlooking  the  walled  garden. 

"You  may  bring  his  supper  when  it  is  ready," 
Hedwig  called  to  her. 

Mathilde  was  mollified,  but  she  knew  what  was 
fitting,  if  the  Princess  did  not.  The  omelet  spoiled  in 
the  pan. 

The  Chancellor  was  in  his  old  smoking-coat  and 
slippers.  He  made  an  effort  to  don  his  tunic,  but 
Hedwig,  on  Mathilde's  heels,  caught  him  in  the  act. 
And,  after  a  glance  at  her  face,  he  relinquished  the 
idea,  bowed  over  her  hand,  and  drew  up  a  chair  for 
her. 

And  that  was  how  the  Chancellor  of  the  kingdom 
learned  that  Captain  Larisch,  aide-de-camp  to  His 
Royal  Highness  the  Crown  Prince,  had  disappeared. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  serious,"  she  said,  watching  him 
with  wide,  terrified  eyes.  "I  know  more  than  you 
think  I  do.  I  — we  hear  things,  even  in  the  Palace." 


144  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Irony  here,  but  unconscious.  "  I  know  that  there  is 
trouble.  And  it  is  not  like  Captain  Larisch  to  desert 
his  post." 

"A  boyish  escapade,  Highness,"  said  the  Chan 
cellor.  But,  in  the  twilight,  he  gripped  hard  at  the 
arms  of  his  chair.  "He  will  turn  up,  very  much 
ashamed  of  himself,  to-night  or  to-morrow." 

"That  is  what  you  want  to  believe.  You  know 
better." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  considered  her 
from  under  his  heavy  brows.  So  this  was  how  things 
were;  another,  and  an  unlooked-for  complication. 
Outside  he  could  hear  Mathilde's  heavy  footstep  as 
she  waited  impatiently  for  the  Princess  to  go.  The 
odor  of  a  fresh  omelet  filled  the  little  house.  Nikky 
gone,  perhaps  to  join  the  others  who,  one  by  one, 
had  felt  the  steel  of  the  Terrorists.  And  this  girl,  on 
whom  so  much  hung,  sitting  there,  a  figure  of  young 
tragedy. 

"Highness,"  he  said  at  last,  "if  the  worst  has 
happened,  —  and  that  I  do  not  believe,  —  it  will  be 
because  there  is  trouble,  as  you  have  said.  Sooner 
or  later,  we  who  love  our  country  must  make  sacri 
fices  for  it.  Most  of  all,  those  in  high  places  will  be 
called  upon.  And  among  them  you  may  be  asked  to 
help." 

"I?  What  can  /  do?"  But  she  knew,  and  the 
Chancellor  saw  that  she  knew. 

"It  is  Karl,  then?" 

"It  may  be  King  Karl,  Hedwig." 


IN  THE  PARK  145 

Hedwig  rose,  and  the  Chancellor  got  heavily  to 
his  feet.  She  was  fighting  for  calmness,  and  she  suc 
ceeded  very  well.  After  all,  if  Nikky  were  gone, 
what  did  it  matter?  Only  — 

"There  are  so  many  of  you,"  she  said,  rather 
pitifully.  "And  you  are  all  so  powerful.  And 
against  you  there  is  only  —  me." 

"Why  against  us,  Highness?" 

"Because,"  said  Hedwig,  —  "because  I  care  for 
some  one  else,  and  I  shall  care  for  him  all  the  rest  of 
my  life,  even  if  he  never  comes  back.  You  may 
marry  me  to  whom  you  please,  but  I  shall  go  on 
caring.  I  shall  never  forget.  And  I  shall  make  Karl 
the  worst  wife  in  the  world,  because  I  hate  him." 

She  opened  the  door  and  went  out  without  cere 
mony,  because  she  was  hard-driven  and  on  the  edge 
of  tears.  In  the  corridor  she  almost  ran  over  the 
irritated  Mathilde,  and  she  wept  all  the  way  back  to 
the  Palace,  much  to  the  dismay  of  her  lady  in  wait 
ing,  who  had  disapproved  of  the  excursion  anyhow. 

That  night,  the  city  was  searched  for  Nikky 
Larisch,  but  without  result. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

NIKKY  DOES  A   RECKLESS   THING 

NIKKY  LARISCH  had  been  having  an  exciting  time. 

First  of  all,  he  exchanged  garments  with  the 
chauffeur,  and  cursed  his  own  long  legs,  which 
proved  difficult  to  cover  adequately.  But  the  chauf 
feur's  long  fur  ulster  helped  considerably.  The  ex 
change  was  rather  a  ticklish  matter,  and  would  have 
been  more  so  had  he  not  found  a  revolver  in  the  fur- 
coat  pocket.  It  is  always  hard  to  remove  a  coat 
from  a  man  whose  arms  are  tied,  and  trousers  are 
even  more  difficult.  To  remove  trousers  from  a  re 
fractory  prisoner  offers  problems.  They  must  be 
dragged  off,  and  a  good  thrust  from  a  heavy  boot, 
or  two  boots,  has  been  known  to  change  the  fate  of 
nations. 

However,  Nikky's  luck  stood.  His  prisoner 
kicked,  but  owing  to  Nikky's  wise  precaution  of 
having  straddled  him,  nothing  untoward  happened. 

Behold,  then,  Nikky  of  the  brave  heart  standing 
over  his  prostrate  prisoner,  and  rolling  him,  mummy 
fashion,  in  his  own  tunic  and  a  rug  from  the  machine. 

"It  is  cold,  my  friend,"  he  said  briefly;  "but  I 
am  a  kindly  soul,  and  if  you  have  told  me  the  truth, 
you  will  not  have  so  much  as  a  snuffle  to  remind  you 
of  this  to-morrow." 


NIKKY  DOES  A  RECKLESS  THING      147 

"I  have  told  the  truth." 

"As  a  soldier,  of  course,"  Nikky  went  on,  "I 
think  you  have  made  a  mistake.  You  should  have 
chosen  the  precipice.  But  as  a  private  gentleman,  I 
thank  you." 

Having  examined  the  knots  in  the  rope,  which 
were  very  well  done,  indeed,  and  having  gagged  the 
chauffeur  securely,  Nikky  prepared  to  go.  In  his  gog 
gles,  with  the  low-visored  cap  and  fur  coat,  he  looked 
not  unlike  his  late  companion.  But  he  had  a  jaunty 
step  as  he  walked  toward  the  car,  a  bit  of  swagger 
that  covered,  perhaps,  just  a  trifle  of  uneasiness. 

For  Nikky  now  knew  his  destination,  knew  that 
he  was  bound  on  perilous  work,  and  that  the  chances 
of  his  returning  were  about  fifty-fifty,  or  rather  less. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  apparently  quite  calm  as  he 
examined  the  car.  He  would  have  chosen,  perhaps, 
a  less  perilous  place  to  attempt  its  mysteries,  but 
needs  must.  He  climbed  in,  and  released  the  brakes. 
Then,  with  great  caution,  and  considerable  noise,  he 
worked  it  away  from  the  brink  of  the  chasm,  and 
started  off. 

He  did  not  know  his  way.  Over  the  mountains  it 
was  plain  enough,  for  there  was  but  one  road.  After 
he  descended  into  the  plain  of  Karnia,  however,  it 
became  difficult.  Sign-posts  were  few  and  not  ex 
plicit.  But  at  last  he  found  the  railroad,  which  he 
knew- well  —  that  railroad  without  objective,  save 
as  it  would  serve  to  move  troops  toward  the  border. 
After  that  Nikky  found  it  easier. 


148  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

But,  with  his  course  assured,  other  difficulties 
presented  themselves.  To  take  the  letter  to  those 
who  would  receive  it  was  one  thing.  But  to  deliver 
it,  with  all  that  it  might  contain,  was  another.  He 
was  not  brilliant,  was  Nikky.  Only  brave  and  sim 
ple  of  heart,  and  unversed  in  the  ways  of  darkness. 

If,  now,  he  could  open  the  letter  and  remove  it, 
substituting  —  well,  what  could  he  substitute? 
There  were  cigarette  papers  in  his  pocket.  Trust 
Nikky  for  that.  But  how  to  make  the  exchange? 

Nikky  pondered.  To  cut  the  side  of  the  envelope 
presented  itself.  But  it  was  not  good  enough.  The 
best  is  none  too  good  when  one's  life  is  at  stake. 

The  engine  was  boiling  hard,  a  dull  roaring  under 
the  hood  that  threatened  trouble.  He  drew  up  be 
side  the  road  and  took  off  the  water-cap.  Then  he 
whistled.  Why,  of  course!  Had  it  not  been  done 
from  time  immemorial,  this  steaming  of  letters?  He 
examined  it.  It  bore  no  incriminating  seal. 

He  held  the  envelope  over  the  water-cap,  and  was 
boyishly  pleased  to  feel  the  flap  loosen.  After  all, 
things  were  easy  enough  if  one  used  one's  brains.  He 
rather  regretted  using  almost  all  of  his  cigarette 
papers,  of  course.  He  had,  perhaps,  never  heard  of 
the  drop  of  nicotine  on  the  tongue  of  a  dog. 

As  for  the  letter  itself,  he  put  it,  without  even 
glancing  at  it,  into  his  cap,  under  the  lining.  Then 
he  sealed  the  envelope  again  and  dried  it  against 
one  of  the  lamps.  It  looked,  he  reflected,  as  good 
as  new. 


NIKKY  DOES  A  RECKLESS  THING      149 

He  was  extremely  pleased  with  himself. 

Before  he  returned  to  the  machine  he  consulted 
his  watch.  It  was  three  o'clock.  True,  the  long  early 
spring  night  gave  him  four  more  hours  of  darkness. 
But  the  messenger  was  due  at  three,  at  the  hunting- 
lodge  in  the  mountains  which  was  his  destination. 
He  would  be,  at  the  best,  late  by  an  hour. 

He  pushed  the  car  to  its  limit.  The  fine  hard  road, 
with  its  border  of  trees,  stretched  ahead.  Nikky 
surveyed  it  with  a  soldier's  eye.  A  military  road,  or 
he  knew  nothing  —  one  along  which  motor-lorries 
could  make  express  time.  A  marvelous  road,  in  that 
sparsely  settled  place.  Then  he  entered  the  forest, 
that  kingly  reserve  in  which  Karl  ran  deer  for  pas 
time. 

He  was  nearing  his  destination. 

On  what  the  messenger  had  told  him  Nikky  hung 
his  hope  of  success.  This  was,  briefly,  that  he  should 
go  to  the  royal  shooting-box  at  Wedeling,  and  should 
go,  not  to  the  house  itself,  but  to  the  gate-keeper's 
lodge.  Here  he  was  to  leave  his  machine,  and  tap  at 
the  door.  On  its  being  opened,  he  was  to  say  nothing, 
but  to  give  the  letter  to  him  who  opened  the  door. 
After  that  he  was  to  take  the  machine  away  to  the 
capital,  some  sixty  miles  farther  on. 

The  message,  then,  was  to  the  King  himself.  For 
Nikky,  as  all  the  world,  knew  that  Karl,  with  some 
kindred  spirits,  was  at  Wedeling,  shooting.  That  is, 
if  the  messenger  told  the  truth.  Nikky  intended  to 
find  out.  He  was  nothing  if  not  thorough. 


I5o  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

Nikky  had  lost  much  of  his  jaunty  air  by  that 
time.  On  the  surface  he  was  his  usual  debonair  self, 
but  his  mouth  was  grim  and  rather  contemptuous. 
This  was  Karl's  way:  to  propose  marriage  with  a 
Princess  of  Livonia,  and  yet  line  the  country  with 
his  spies!  Let  him  but  return,  God  willing,  with  his 
report,  and  after  that,  let  them  continue  negotia 
tions  with  Karl  if  they  dared. 

When  at  last  the  lights  of  the  lodge  at  the  gate  of 
Wedeling  gleamed  out  through  the  trees,  it  was  half- 
past  three,  and  a  wet  spring  snow  was  falling  softly. 
In  an  open  place  Nikky  looked  up.  The  stars  were 
gone. 

The  lodge  now,  and  the  gate-keeper's  house. 
Nikky's  heart  hammered  as  he  left  the  car  —  ham 
mered  with  nervousness,  not  terror.  But  he  went 
boldly  to  the  door,  and  knocked. 

So  far  all  was  well.  There  were  footsteps  within, 
and  a  man  stepped  out  into  the  darkness,  closing 
the  door  behind  him.  Nikky,  who  had  come  so  far 
to  see  this  very  agent,  and  to  take  back  a  description 
of  him,  felt  thwarted.  Things  were  not  being  done, 
he  felt,  according  to  specification.  And  the  man 
spoke,  which  was  also  unexpected. 

"You  have  the  letter?"  he  asked. 

"  It  is  here."  Luckily  he  did  not  speak  the  patois. 

"I  will  take  it." 

Nikky  held  it  out.  The  man  fumbled  for  it,  took 
it. 

"Orders  have  come,"  said  the  voice,  "that  you 


NIKKY  DOES  A  RECKLESS  THING      151 

remain  here  for  the  night.  In  the  morning  you  are 
to  carry  dispatches  to  the  city." 

Poor  Nikky!  With  his  car  facing  toward  the 
lodge,  and  under  necessity,  in  order  to  escape,  to 
back  it  out  into  the  highway!  He  thought  quickly. 
There  was  no  chance  of  overpowering  his  man 
quickly  and  silently.  And  the  house  was  not  empty. 
From  beyond  the  door  came  the  sounds  of  men's 
voices,  and  the  thud  of  drinking-mugs  on  a  bare 
table. 

"You  will  take  me  up  to  the  house,  and  then  put 
the  car  away  until  morning." 

Nikky  breathed  again.  It  was  going  to  be  easy, 
after  all.  If  only  the  road  went  straight  to  the  shoot 
ing-box  itself,  the  rest  was  simple.  But  he  prayed 
that  he  make  no  false  turning,  to  betray  his  igno 
rance. 

"Very  well,"  he  said. 

His  companion  opened  the  door  behind  him. 
"Ready,  now,"  he  called.  "The  car  is  here." 

Two  men  rose  from  a  table  where  they  had  been 
sitting,  and  put  on  greatcoats  of  fur.  The  lamplight 
within  quivered  in  the  wind  from  the  open  door. 
Nikky  was  quite  calm  now.  His  heart  beat  its  regu 
lar  seventy-two,  and  he  even  reflected,  with  a  sort 
of  grim  humor,  that  the  Chancellor  would  find  the 
recital  of  this  escapade  much  to  his  taste.  In  a 
modest  way  Nikky  felt  that  he  was  making  history. 

The  man  who  had  received  the  letter  got  into  the 
machine  beside  him.  The  other  two  climbed  into  the 


152  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

tonneau.  And,  as  if  to  make  the  denouement  doubly 
ridiculous,  the  road  led  straight.  Nikky,  growing 
extremely  cheerful  behind  his  goggles,  wondered 
how  much  petrol  remained  in  the  car. 

The  men  behind  talked  in  low  tones.  Of  the  shoot 
ing,  mostly,  and  the  effect  of  the  snow  on  it.  They 
had  been  after  pheasants  that  day,  it  appeared. 

"They  are  late  to-night,"  grumbled  one  of  them, 
as  the  house  appeared,  full  lighted.  "A  tardy  start 
to-morrow  again ! " 

"The  King  must  have  his  sleep,"  commented  the 
other,  rather  mockingly. 

With  a  masterly  sweep,  Nikky  drew  up  his  ma 
chine  before  the  entrance.  Let  them  once  alight,  let 
him  but  start  his  car  down  the  road  again,  and  all 
the  devils  of  the  night  might  follow.  He  feared 
nothing. 

But  here  again  Nikky  planned  too  fast.  The  serv 
ant  who  came  out  to  open  the  doors  of  the  motor  had 
brought  a  message.  "His  Majesty  desires  that  the 
messenger  come  in,"  was  the  bomb-shell  which  ex 
ploded  in  Nikky's  ears. 

Nikky  hesitated.  And  then  some  imp  of  reckless 
ness  in  him  prompted  him  not  to  run  away,  but  to 
see  the  thing  through.  It  was,  after  all,  a  chance 
either  way.  These  men  beside  the  car  were  doubt 
less  armed  —  one  at  least,  nearest  him,  was  cer 
tainly  one  of  Karl's  own  secret  agents.  And,  as 
Nikky  paused,  he  was  not  certain,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  that  the  .man  took  a  step  toward  him. 


NIKKY  DOES  A  RECKLESS  THING      153 

"Very  well,"  said  Nikky,  grumbling.  "But  I 
have  had  a  long  ride,  and  a  cold  one.  I  need  sleep." 

Even  then  he  had  a  faint  hope  that  the  others 
would  precede  him,  and  that  it  would  be  possible  to 
leap  back  to  the  car,  and  escape.  But,  whether  by 
accident  or  design,  the  group  closed  about  him. 
Flight  was  out  of  the  question. 

A  little  high  was  Nikky's  head  as  he  went  in.  He 
had  done  a  stupid  thing  now,  and  he  knew  it.  He 
should  have  taken  his  letter  and  gone  back  with  it. 
But,  fool  or  not,  he  was  a  soldier.  Danger  made  him 
calm. 

So  he  kept  his  eyes  open.  The  shooting-box  was 
a  simple  one,  built,  after  the  fashion  of  the  moun 
tains,  of  logs,  and  wood-lined.  The  walls  of  the  hall 
were  hung  with  skins  and  the  mounted  heads  of 
animals,  boar  and  deer,  and  even  an  American 
mountain  sheep,  testifying  to  the  range  of  its  royal 
owner's  activities  as  a  hunter.  Great  pelts  lay  on  the 
floor,  and  the  candelabra  were  horns  cunningly  ar 
ranged  to  hold  candles.  The  hall  extended  to  the 
roof,  and  a  gallery  half-way  up  showed  the  doors  of 
the  sleeping-apartments. 

The  lodge  was  noisy.  Loud  talking,  the  coming 
and  going  of  servants  with  trays,  the  crackle  of 
wood  fires  in  which  whole  logs  were  burning,  and,  as 
Nikky  and  his  escort  entered,  the  roaring  chorus  of 
a  hunting-song  filled  the  ears. 

Two  of  the  men  flung  off  their  heavy  coats,  and 
proceeded  without  ceremony  into  the  room  whence 


154  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

the  sounds  issued.  The  third,  however,  still  holding 
the  letter,  ushered  Nikky  into  a  small  side  room,  a 
sort  of  study,  since  it  contained  a  desk.  For  kings 
must  pursue  their  clerical  occupations  even  on  hol 
iday.  A  plain  little  room  it  was,  containing  an  Amer 
ican  typewriter,  and  beside  the  desk  only  a  chair  or 
two  upholstered  in  red  morocco. 

Nikky  had  reluctantly  removed  his  cap.  His 
goggles,  however,  he  ventured  to  retain.  He  was 
conscious  that  his  guide  was  studying  him  intently. 
But  not  with  suspicion,  he  thought.  Rather  as  one 
who  would  gauge  the  caliber  of  the  man  before  him. 
He  seemed  satisfied,  too,  for  his  voice,  which  had 
been  curt,  grew  more  friendly. 

"You  had  no  trouble?"  he  asked. 

"None,  sir." 

"Did  Niburg  say  anything?" 

Niburg,  then,  was  the  spy  of  the  cathedral. 
Nikky  reflected.  Suddenly  he  saw  a  way  out.  It 
was,  he  afterward  proclaimed,  not  his  own  thought. 
It  came  to  him  like  a  message.  He  burned  a  candle 
to  his  patron  saint,  sometime  later,  for  it. 

"The  man  Niburg  had  had  an  unfortunate  ex 
perience,  sir.  He  reported  that,  during  an  evening 
stroll,  before  he  met  me,  he  was  attacked  by  three 
men,  with  the  evident  intention  of  securing  the 
letter.  He  was  badly  beaten  up." 

His  companion  started.  "Niburg,"  he  said. 
"Then  —"He  glanced  at  the  letter  he  held.  "We 
must  find  some  one  else,"  he  muttered.  "I  never 


NIKKY  DOES  A   RECKLESS  THING       155 

trusted  the  fellow.  A  clerk,  nothing  else.  For  this 
work  it  takes  wit." 

Nikky,  sweating  with  strain,  felt  that  it  did,  in 
deed.  "He  was  badly  used  up,  sir,"  he  offered. 
"Could  hardly  walk,  and  was  still  trembling  with 
excitement  when  I  met  him." 

The  man  reflected.  A  serious  matter,  he  felt. 
Not  so  serious  as  it  might  have  been,  since  he  held 
the  letter.  But  it  showed  many  things,  and  threat 
ened  others.  He  touched  a  bell.  "Tell  his  Maj 
esty,"  he  said  to  the  servant  who  appeared,  "that 
his  messenger  is  here." 

The  servant  bowed  and  withdrew. 

Nikky  found  the  wait  that  followed  trying.  He 
thought  of  Hedwig,  and  of  the  little  Crown  Prince. 
Suddenly  he  knew  that  he  had  had  no  right  to  at 
tempt  this  thing.  He  had  given  his  word,  almost  his 
oath,  to  the  King,  to  protect  and  watch  over  the 
boy.  And  here  he  was,  knowing  now  that  mischief 
was  afoot,  and  powerless.  He  cursed  himself  for  his 
folly. 

Then  Karl  came  in.  He  came  alone,  closing  the 
door  behind  him.  Nikky  and  his  companion  bowed, 
and  Nikky  surveyed  him  through  his  goggles.  The 
same  mocking  face  he  remembered,  from  Karl's 
visit  to  the  summer  palace,  the  same  easy,  graceful 
carriage,  the  same  small  mustache.  He  was  in  eve 
ning  dress,  and  the  bosom  of  his  shirt  was  slightly 
rumpled.  He  had  been  drinking,  but  he  was  not 
intoxicated.  He  was  slightly  flushed,  his  eyes  were 


156  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

abnormally  bright.  He  looked,  for  the  moment, 
rather  amiable.  Nikky  was  to  learn,  later  on,  how 
easily  his  smile  hardened  to  a  terrifying  grin.  The 
long,  rather  delicate  nose  of  his  family,  fine  hair 
growing  a  trifle  thin,  and  a  thin,  straight  body  — 
this  was  Karl,  King  of  Karnia,  and  long-time  enemy 
to  Nikky 's  own  land. 

He  ignored  Nikky 's  companion.  "You  brought  a 
letter?" 

Nikky  bowed,  and  the  other  man  held  it  out. 
Karl  took  it. 

"The  trip  was  uneventful?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"A  bad  night  for  it,"  Karl  observed,  and  glanced 
at  the  letter  in  his  hand.  "Was  there  any  difficulty 
at  the  frontier?" 

"None,  sire." 

Karl  tore  the  end  off  the  envelope.  "You  will 
remain  here  to-night,"  he  said.  "To-morrow  morn 
ing  I  shall  send  dispatches  to  the  city.  I  hope  you 
have  petrol.  These  fellows  here — "  He  did  not 
complete  the  sentence.  He  inserted  two  royal  fingers 
into  the  envelope  and  drew  out  —  Nikky's  cigarette 
papers ! 

For  a  moment  there  was  complete  silence  in  the 
room.  Karl  turned  the  papers  over. 

It  was  then  that  his  face  hardened  into  a  horrible 
grin.  He  looked  up,  raising  his  head  slowly. 

"What  is  this?"  he  demanded,  very  quietly. 

"The  letter,  sire,"  said  Nikky.   "I  — " 


NIKKY  DOES  A  RECKLESS  THING      157 

"The  letter!   Do  you  call  these  a  letter?" 
Nikky  drew  himself  up.    "I  have  brought  the 
envelope  which  was  given  me." 

Without  a  word  Karl  held  out  papers  and  envel 
ope  to  the  other  man,  who  took  them.  Then  he 
turned  to  Nikky,  and  now  he  raised  his  voice. 
"Where  did  you  get  this  —  hoax?"  he  demanded, 
"At  the  cathedral,  from  the  man  Niburg." 
"You  lie!"  said  Karl.  Then,  for  a  moment,  he 
left  Nikky  and  turned  on  his  companion  in  a  fury. 
He  let  his  royal  rage  beat  on  that  unlucky  individual 
while  the  agent  stood,  white  and  still.  Not  until  it 
was  over,  and  Karl,  spent  with  passion,  was  pacing 
the  floor,  did  Nikky  venture  a  word. 

"If  this  is  not  what  Your  Majesty  expected," 
he  said,  "there  is  perhaps  an  explanation." 
Karl  wheeled  on  him.   "Explanation!" 
"The  man  Niburg  was  attacked,  early  last  eve 
ning,  by  three  men.  They  beat  him  badly,  and  at 
tempted  to  rob  him.  His  story  to  me,  sire.   He  be 
lieved  that  they  were  after  the  letter,  but  that  he  had 
preserved  it.     It  is,  of  course,  a  possibility  that, 
while  he  lay  stunned,  they  substituted  another  en 
velope  for  the  one  he  carried." 

Karl  tore  the  envelope  from  the  agent's  hands  and 
inspected  it  carefully.  Evidently,  as  with  the  agent, 
the  story  started  a  new  train  of  thought.  Nikky 
drew  a  long  breath.  After  all,  there  was  still  hope 
that  the  early  morning  shooting  would  have  another 
target  than  himself. 


158  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Karl  sat  down,  and  his  face  relaxed.  It  was  stern, 
but  no  longer  horrible.  "Tell  me  this  Niburg's 
story,"  he  commanded. 

"He  was  walking  through  the  old  city,"  Nikky 
commenced,  "when  three  men  fell  on  him.  One,  a 
large  one,  knocked  him  insensible  and  then  went 
through  his  pockets.  The  others  — 

"Strange! "  said  Karl.  "  If  he  was  insensible,  how 
does  he  know  all  this?" 

"  It  was  his  story,  sire,"  Nikky  explained.  But  he 
colored.  "A  companion,  who  was  with  him,  ran 
away." 

"This  companion,"  Karl  queried.  "A  dark, 
heavy  fellow,  was  it?" 

"No.  Rather  a  pale  man,  blond.  A — "  Nikky 
checked  himself. 

But  Karl  was  all  suavity.  "So,"  he  said,  "while 
Niburg  was  unconscious  the  large  man  took  the  let 
ter,  which  was  sealed,  magically  opened  it,  ex 
tracted  its  contents,  replaced  them  with  —  this,  and 
then  sealed  it  again!" 

The  King  turned  without  haste  to  a  drawer  in  his 
desk,  and  opened  it.  He  was  smiling.  When  he 
faced  about  again,  Nikky  saw  that  he  held  a  re 
volver  in  his  hand.  Save  that  the  agent  had  taken 
a  step  forward,  nothing  in  the  room  had  changed. 
And  yet,  for  Nikky  everything  had  changed. 

Nikky  had  been  a  reckless  fool,  but  he  was  brave 
enough.  He  smiled,  a  better  smile  than  Karl's 
twisted  one. 


NIKKY  DOES  A  RECKLESS  THING      159 

"I  have  a  fancy,"  said  King  Karl,  "to  manage 
this  matter  for  myself.  Keep  back,  Kaiser.  Now, 
my  friend,  you  will  give  me  the  packet  of  cigarette 
papers  you  carry." 

Resistance  would  do  no  good.  Nikky  brought 
them  out,  and  Karl's  twisted  smile  grew  broader  as 
he  compared  them  with  the  ones  the  envelope  had 
contained. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "you  show  the  hand  of  the 
novice.  You  should  have  thrown  these  away.  But, 
of  course,  all  your  methods  are  wrong.  Why,  for  in 
stance,  have  you  come  here  at  all?  You  have  my 
man  —  but  that  I  shall  take  up  later.  We  will  first 
have  the  letter." 

But  here  Nikky  stood  firm.  Let  them  find  the 
letter.  He  would  not  help  them.  But  again  he 
cursed  himself.  There  had  been  a  thousand  hid 
ing-places  along  the  road  —  but  he  must  bring  the 
incriminating  thing  with  him,  and  thus  condemn 
himself! 

Now  commenced  a  curious  scene,  curious  because 
one  of  the  actors  was  Karl  of  Karnia  himself.  He 
seemed  curiously  loath  to  bring  in  assistance,  did 
Karl.  Or  perhaps  the  novelty  of  the  affair  appealed 
to  him.  And  Nikky 's  resistance  to  search,  with  that 
revolver  so  close,  was  short-lived. 

Even  while  he  was  struggling,  Nikky  was  think 
ing.  Let  them  get  the  letter,  if  they  must.  Things 
would  at  least  be  no  worse  than  before.  But  he  re 
solved  that  no  violence  would  tear  from  him  the 


160  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

place  where  the  messenger  was  hidden.  Until  they 
had  got  that,  he  had  a  chance  for  life. 

They  searched  his  cap  last.  Nikky,  panting  after 
that  strange  struggle,  saw  Kaiser  take  it  from  the 
lining  of  his  cap,  and  pass  it  to  the  King. 

Karl  took  it.  The  smile  was  gone  now,  and  some 
thing  ugly  and  terrible  had  taken  its  place.  But 
that,  too,  faded  as  he  looked  at  the  letter. 

It  was  a  blank  piece  of  note-paper. 


CHAPTER  XV 

FATHER  AND    DAUGHTER 

WITH  the  approach  of  the  anniversary  of  his  son's 
death,  the  King  grew  increasingly  restless.  Each 
year  he  determined  to  put  away  this  old  grief,  and 
each  year,  as  his  bodily  weakness  increased,  he 
found  it  harder  to  do  so.  In  vain  he  filled  his  weary 
days  with  the  routine  of  his  kingdom.  In  vain  he 
told  himself  that  there  were  worse  things  than  to  be 
cut  off  in  one's  prime,  that  the  tragedy  of  old  age  is 
a  long  tragedy,  with  but  one  end.  To  have  out-lived 
all  that  one  loves,  he  felt,  was  worse  by  far.  To  have 
driven,  in  one  gloomy  procession  after  another,  to 
the  old  Capuchin  church  and  there  to  have  left, 
prayerfully,  some  dearly  beloved  body  —  that  had 
been  his  life.  His  son  had  escaped  that.  But  it  was 
poor  comfort  to  him. 

On  other  years  he  had  had  the  Crown  Prince  with 
him  as  much  as  possible  on  this  dreary  day  of  days. 
But  the  Crown  Prince  was  exiled,  in  disgrace.  Not 
even  for  the  comfort  of  his  small  presence  could 
stern  discipline  be  relaxed. 

Annunciata  was  not  much  comfort  to  him.  They 
had  always  differed,  more  or  less,  the  truth  being, 
perhaps,  that  she  was  too  much  like  the  King  ever 
to  sympathize  fully  with  him.  Both  were  arrogant, 


162  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

determined,  obstinate.  And  those  qualities,  which 
age  was  beginning  to  soften  in  the  King,  were  now, 
in  Annunciata,  in  full  strength  and  blooming. 

But  there  was  more  than  fundamental  similarity 
at  fault.  Against  her  father  the  Archduchess  held 
her  unhappy  marriage. 

"You  did  this,"  she  had  said  once,  when  an  unus 
ually  flagrant  escapade  had  come  to  the  ears  of  the 
Palace.  "  You  did  it.  I  told  you  I  hated  him.  I  told 
you  what  he  was,  too.  But  you  had  some  plan  in 
mind.  The  plan  never  materialized,  but  the  mar 
riage  did.  And  here  I  am."  She  had  turned  on  him 
then,  not  angrily,  but  with  cold  hostility.  "I  shall 
never  forgive  you  for  it,"  she  said. 

She  never  had.  She  made  her  daily  visit  to  her 
father,  and,  as  he  grew  more  feeble,  she  was  moved 
now  and  then  to  pity  for  him.  But  it  was  pity,  noth 
ing  more.  The  very  hands  with  which  she  some 
times  changed  his  pillows  were  coldly  efficient.  She 
had  not  kissed  him  in  years. 

And  now,  secretly  willing  that  Hedwig  should 
marry  Karl,  she  was  ready  to  annoy  him  by  object 
ing  to  it. 

On  the  day  after  her  conversation  with  General 
Mettlich,  she  visited  the  King.  It  was  afternoon. 
The  King  had  spent  the  morning  in  his  study, 
propped  with  pillows  as  was  always  the  case  now, 
working  with  a  secretary.  The  secretary  was  gone 
when  she  entered,  and  he  sat  alone.  Over  his  knees 
was  spread  one  of  the  brilliant  rugs  that  the  peasants 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  163 

wove  in  winter  evenings,  when  the  snow  beat  about 
their  small  houses  and  the  cattle  were  snug  in  barns. 
Above  it  his  thin  old  face  looked  pinched  and  pale. 

He  had  passed  a  trying  day.  Once  having  broken 
down  the  Chancellor's  barrier  of  silence,  the  King 
had  insisted  on  full  knowledge,  with  the  result  that 
he  had  sat,  aghast,  amid  the  ruins  of  his  former 
complacency.  The  country  and  the  smaller  cities 
were  comparatively  quiet,  so  far  as  demonstrations 
against  the  Government  were  concerned.  But  un 
questionably  they  plotted.  As  for  the  capital,  it  was 
a  seething  riot  of  sedition,  from  the  reports.  A  copy 
of  a  newspaper,  secretly  printed  and  more  secretly 
circulated,  had  brought  fire  to  the  King's  eyes.  It 
lay  on  his  knees  as  his  daughter  entered. 

Annunciata  touched  her  lips  to  his  hand.  Ab 
sorbed  as  he  was  in  other  matters,  it  struck  him,  as 
she  bent,  that  Annunciata  was  no  longer  young,  and 
that  Time  was  touching  her  with  an  unloving  finger. 
He  viewed  her  graying  hair,  her  ugly  clothes,  with 
the  detached  eye  of  age.  And  he  sighed. 

"Well,  father,"  she  said,  looking  down  at  him, 
"how  do  you  feel?" 

"Sit  down,"  he  said.  The  question  as  to  his 
health  was  too  perfunctory  to  require  reply.  Besides, 
he  anticipated  trouble,  and  it  was  an  age-long  habit 
of  his  to  meet  it  halfway. 

Annunciata  sat,  with  a  jingling  of  chains.  She 
chose  a  straight  chair,  and  faced  him,  very  erect. 

"How  old  is  Hedwig?"  demanded  the  King. 


164  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"Nineteen." 

"And  Hilda?" 

"Sixteen." 

He  knew  their  ages  quite  well.  It  was  merely  the 
bugle  before  the  attack. 

"Hedwig  is  old  enough  to  marry.  Her  grand 
mother  was  not  nineteen  when  I  married  her." 

"It  would  be  better,"  said  Annunciata,  "to 
marry  her  while  she  is  young,  before  she  knows  any 
better." 

"Any  better  than  what?"  inquired  the  King 
testily. 

"Any  better  than  to  marry  at  all." 

The  King  eyed  her.  She  was  not,  then,  even  at 
tempting  to  hide  her  claws.  But  he  was  an  old  bird, 
and  not  to  be  caught  in  an  argumentative  cage. 

"There  are  several  possibilities  for  Hedwig,"  he 
said.  "I  have  gone  into  the  matter  pretty  thor 
oughly.  As  you  know,  I  have  had  this  on  my  mind 
for  some  time.  It  is  necessary  to  arrange  things 
before  I  —  go." 

The  King,  of  course,  was  neither  asking  nor  ex 
pecting  sympathy  from  her,  but  mentally,  and  some 
what  grimly,  he  compared  her  unmoved  face  with 
that  of  his  old  friend  and  Chancellor,  only  a  few 
nights  before. 

"  It  is  a  regrettable  fact,"  he  went  on,  "that  I  must 
leave,  as  I  shall,  a  sadly  troubled  country.  But  for 
that — "  he  paused.  But  for  that,  he  meant,  he 
would  go  gladly.  He  needed  rest.  His  spirit,  still  so 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  165 

alive,  chafed  daily  more  and  more  against  its  worn 
body.  He  believed  in  another  life,  did  the  old  King. 
He  wanted  the  hearty  handclasp  of  his  boy  again. 
Even  the  wife  who  had  married  him  against  her  will 
had  grown  close  to  him  in  later  years.  He  needed  her 
too.  A  little  rest,  then,  and  after  that  a  new  life,  with 
those  who  had  gone  ahead. 

"A  sadly  troubled  country,"  he  repeated. 

"All  countries  are  troubled.  We  are  no  worse  than 
others." 

"  Perhaps  not.  But  things  are  changing.  The  old 
order  is  changing.  The  spirit  of  unrest  —  I  shall  not 
live  to  see  it.  You  may,  Annunciata.  But  the  day 
is  coming  when  all  thrones  will  totter.  Like  this 
one." 

Now  at  last  he  had  pierced  her  armor.  "  Like  this 
one!" 

"That  is  what  I  said.  Rouse  yourself,  Annunciata. 
Leave  that  little  boudoir  of  yours,  with  its  accursed 
clocks  and  its  heat  and  its  flub-dubbery,  and  see 
what  is  about  you!  Discontent!  Revolution!  We 
are  hardly  safe  from  day  to  day.  Do  you  think  that 
what  happened  nine  years  ago  was  a  flash  that  died 
as  it  came?  Nonsense.  Read  this!" 

He  held  out  the  paper  and  she  put  on  her  pince-nez 
and  read  its  headings,  a  trifle  disdainfully.  But  the 
next  moment  she  rose,  and  stood  in  front  of  him,  al 
most  as  pale  as  he  was.  ' '  You  allow  this  sort  of  thing 
to  be  published?" 

"No.   But  it  is  published." 


166  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"And  they  dare  to  say  things  like  this?  Why,  it — 
it  is—" 

"Exactly.  It  is,  undoubtedly."  He  was  very 
calm.  "  I  would  not  have  troubled  you  with  it.  But 
the  situation  is  bad.  We  are  rather  helpless." 

"Not  —  the  army  too ? " 

"What  can  we  tell?  These  things  spread  like 
fires.  Nothing  may  happen  for  years.  On  the  other 
hand,  to-morrow — !" 

The  Archduchess  was  terrified.  She  had  known 
that  there  was  disaffection  about.  She  knew  that  in 
the  last  few  years  precautions  at  the  Palace  had  been 
increased.  Sentries  were  doubled.  Men  in  the  uni 
forms  of  lackeys,  but  doing  no  labor,  were  every 
where.  But  with  time  and  safety  she  had  felt  secure. 

"Of  course,"  the  King  resumed,  "things  are  not 
as  bad  as  that  paper  indicates.  It  is  the  voice  of  the 
few,  rather  than  the  many.  Still,  it  is  a  voice." 

Annunciata  looked  more  than  her  age  now.  She 
glanced  around  the  room  as  though,  already,  she 
heard  the  mob  at  the  doors. 

"It  is  not  safe  to  stay  here,  is  it?"  she  asked. 
"We  could  go  to  the  summer  palace.  That,  at  least, 
is  isolated." 

"Too  isolated,"  said  the  King  dryly.  "And  flight! 
The  very  spark,  perhaps,  to  start  a  blaze.  Besides," 
he  reminded  her,  "  I  could  not  make  the  journey.  If 
you  would  like  to  go,  however,  probably  it  can  be 
arranged." 

But  Annunciata  was  not  minded  to  go  without  the 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  167 

Court.  And  she  reflected,  not  unwisely,  that  if 
things  were  really  as  bad  as  they  appeared,  to  isolate 
herself,  helpless  in  the  mountains,  would  be  but  to 
play  into  the  enemy's  hand. 

"To  return  to  the  matter  of  Hedwig's  marriage," 
said  the  King.  "I—" 

"  Marriage !  When  our  very  lives  are  threatened ! " 

"  I  would  be  greatly  honored,"  said  the  King,  "if 
I  might  be  permitted  to  finish  what  I  was  saying." 

She  had  the  grace  to  flush. 

"Under  the  circumstances,"  the  King  resumed, 
"Hedwig's  marriage  takes  on  great  significance  — 
great  political  significance." 

For  a  half-hour  then,  he  talked  to  her.  More  than 
for  years,  he  unbosomed  himself.  He  had  tried.  His 
ministers  had  tried.  Taxes  had  been  lightened;  the 
representation  of  the  people  increased,  until,  as  he 
said,  he  was  only  nominally  a  ruler.  But  discontent 
remained.  Some  who  had  gone  to  America  and  re 
turned  with  savings  enough  to  set  themselves  up  in 
business,  had  brought  back  with  them  the  American 
idea. 

He  spoke  without  bitterness.  They  refused  to  al 
low  for  the  difference  between  a  new  country  and  an 
old  land,  tilled  for  many  generations.  They  forgot 
their  struggles  across  the  sea  and  brought  back  only 
stories  of  prosperity.  Emigration  had  increased,  and 
those  who  remained  whispered  of  a  new  order,  where 
each  man  was  the  government,  and  no  man  a  king. 

Annunciata  listened  to  the  end.  She  felt  no  pity 


168  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

for  those  who  would  better  themselves  by  discontent 
and  its  product,  revolt.  She  felt  only  resentment, 
that  her  peace  was  being  threatened,  her  position 
assailed.  And  in  her  resentment  she  included  the 
King  himself.  He  should  have  done  better.  These 
things,  taken  early  enough,  could  have  been  ar 
ranged. 

And  something  of  this  she  did  not  hesitate  to  say. 
"Karnia  is  quiet  enough,"  she  finished,  a  final 
thrust. 

"Karnia  is  better  off.  A  lowland,  most  of  it,  and 
fertile."  But  a  spot  of  color  showed  in  his  old  cheeks. 
"I  am  glad  you  spoke  of  Karnia.  Whatever  plans 
we  make,  Karnia  must  be  considered." 

"Why?   Karnia  does  not  consider  us." 

He  raised  his  hand.  "  You  are  wrong.  Just  now, 
Karnia  is  doing  us  the  honor  of  asking  an  alliance 
with  us.  A  matrimonial  alliance." 

The  Archduchess  was  hardly  surprised,  as  one  may 
believe.  But  she  was  not  minded  to  yield  too  easily. 
The  old  resentment  against  her  father  flamed.  In 
different  mother  though  she  was,  she  made  capital  of 
a  fear  for  Hedwig's  happiness.  In  a  cold  and  quiet 
voice  she  reminded  him  of  her  own  wretchedness,  and 
of  Karl's  reputation. 

At  last  she  succeeded  in  irritating  the  King  —  a 
more  difficult  thing  now  than  in  earlier  times,  but 
not  so  hard  a  matter  at  that.  He  listened  quietly  un 
til  she  had  finished,  and  then  sent  her  away.  When 
she  had  got  part  way  to  the  door,  however,  he  called 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  169 

her  back.  And  since  a  king  is  a  king,  even  if  he  is 
one's  father  and  very  old,  she  came. 

"Just  one  word  more,"  he  said,  in  his  thin,  old, 
high-bred  voice.  "Much  of  your  unhappiness  was 
of  your  own  making.  You,  and  you  only,  know  how 
much.  But  nothing  that  you  have  said  can  change 
the  situation.  I  am  merely  compelled  to  make  the 
decision  alone,  and  soon.  I  have  not  much  time." 

So,  after  all,  was  the  matter  of  the  Duchess  Hed- 
wig's  marriage  arranged,  a  composite  outgrowth  of 
expediency  and  obstinacy,  of  defiance  and  anger. 
And  so  was  it  hastened. 

Irritation  gave  the  King  strength.  That  afternoon 
were  summoned  in  haste  the  members  of  his  Coun 
cil  :  fat  old  Friese,  young  Marschall  with  the  rat  face, 
austere  Bayerl  with  the  white  skin  and  burning 
eyes,  and  others.  And  to  them  all  the  King  dis 
closed  his  royal  will.  There  was  some  demur.  Friese, 
who  sweated  with  displeasure,  ranted  about  old 
enemies  and  broken  pledges.  But,  after  all,  the 
King's  will  was  dominant.  Friese  could  but  voice 
his  protest  and  relapse  into  greasy  silence. 

The  Chancellor  sat  silent  during  the  conclave, 
silent,  but  intent.  On  each  speaker  he  turned  his 
eyes,  and  waited  until  at  last  Karl's  proposal,  with  its 
promises,  was  laid  before  them  in  full.  Then,  and 
only  then,  the  Chancellor  rose.  His  speech  was  short. 
He  told  them  of  what  they  all  knew,  their  own  inse 
curity.  He  spoke  but  a  word  of  the  Crown  Prince, 
but  that  softly.  And  he  drew  for  them  a  picture  of 


170  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

the  future  that  set  their  hearts  to  glowing — a  throne 
secure,  a  greater  kingdom,  freedom  from  the  costs 
of  war,  a  harbor  by  the  sea. 

And  if,  as  he  spoke,  he  saw  not  the  rat  eyes  of 
Marschall,  the  greedy  ones  of  some  of  the  others, 
but  instead  a  girl's  wide  and  pleading  ones,  he  reso 
lutely  went  on.  Life  was  a  sacrifice.  Youth  would 
pass,  and  love  with  it,  but  the  country  must  survive. 

The  battle,  which  was  no  battle  at  all,  was  won. 
He  had  won.  The  country  had  won.  The  Crown 
Prince  had  won.  Only  Hedwig  had  lost.  And  only 
Mettlich  knew  just  how  she  had  lost. 

When  the  Council,  bowing  deep,  had  gone  away, 
the  Chancellor  remained  standing  by  a  window.  He 
was  feeling  old  and  very  tired.  All  that  day,  until 
the  Council  met  with  the  King,  he  had  sat  in  the 
little  office  on  a  back  street,  which  was  the  head 
quarters  of  the  secret  service.  All  that  day  men  had 
come  and  gone,  bringing  false  clues  which  led  no 
where.  The  earth  had  swallowed  up  Nikky  Larisch. 

"I  hope  you  are  satisfied,"  said  the  King  grimly, 
from  behind  him.  "It  was  your  arrangement." 

"It  was  my  hope,  sire,"  replied  the  Chancellor 
dryly. 

The  necessity  for  work  brought  the  King  the 
strength  to  do  it.  Mettlich  remained  with  him. 
Boxes  were  brought  from  vaults,  unlocked  and  ex 
amined.  Secretaries  came  and  went.  At  eight  o'clock 
a  frugal  dinner  was  spread  in  the  study,  and  they  ate 
it  almost  literally  over  state  documents. 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER  171 

On  and  on,  until  midnight  or  thereabouts.  Then 
they  stopped.  The  thing  was  arranged.  Nothing 
was  left  now  but  to  carry  the  word  to  Karl. 

Two  things  were  necessary:  Haste.  The  King, 
having  determined  it,  would  lose  no  time.  And 
dignity.  The  granddaughter  of  the  King  must  be 
offered  with  ceremony.  No  ordinary  King's  mes 
senger,  then,  but  some  dignitary  of  the  Court. 

To  this  emergency  Mettlich  rose  like  the  doughty 
old  warrior  and  statesman  that  he  was.  "  If  you  are 
willing,  sire,"  he  said,  as  he  rose,  "  I  will  go  myself." 

"When?" 

"Since  it  must  be  done,  the  sooner  the  better. 
To-night,  sire." 

The  King  smiled.  "You  were  always  impatient! " 
he  commented.  But  he  looked  almost  wistfully  at 
the  sturdy  and  competent  old  figure  before  him. 
Thus  was  he,  not  so  long  ago.  Cold  nights  and  spring 
storms  had  had  no  terrors  for  him.  And  something 
else  he  felt,  although  he  said  nothing  —  the  stress 
of  a  situation  which  would  send  his  Chancellor  out 
at  midnight,  into  a  driving  storm,  to  secure  Karl's 
support.  Things  must  be  bad  indeed! 

"To  the  capital?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  so  far.  Karl  is  hunting.  He  is  at  Wedeling." 

He  went  almost  immediately,  and  the  King  sum 
moned  his  valets,  and  was  got  to  bed.  But  long  after 
the  automobile  containing  Mettlich  and  two  secret 
agents  was  on  the  road  toward  the  mountains,  he 
tossed  on  his  narrow  bed.  To  what  straits  had  they 


172  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

come  indeed !  He  closed  his  eyes  wearily.  Something 
had  gone  out  of  his  life.  He  did  not  realize  at  first 
what  it  was.  When  he  did,  he  smiled  his  old  grim 
smile  in  the  darkness. 

He  had  lost  a  foe.   More  than  anything,  perhaps, 
he  had  dearly  loved  a  foe. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ON   THE   MOUNTAIN   ROAD 

THE  low  gray  car  which  carried  the  Chancellor  was 
on  its  way  through  the  mountains.  It  moved  delib 
erately,  for  two  reasons.  First,  the  Chancellor  was 
afraid  of  motors.  He  had  a  horseman's  hatred  and 
fear  of  machines.  Second,  he  was  not  of  a  mind  to 
rouse  King  Karl  from  a  night's  sleep,  even  to  bring 
the  hand  of  the  Princess  Hedwig.  His  intention  was 
to  put  up  at  some  inn  in  a  village  not  far  from  the 
lodge  and  to  reach  Karl  by  messenger  early  in  the 
morning,  before  the  hunters  left  for  the  day. 

Then,  all  being  prepared  duly  and  in  order,  Mett- 
lich  himself  would  arrive,  and  things  would  go  for 
ward  with  dignity  and  dispatch. 

In  the  mean  time  he  sat  back  among  his  furs  and 
thought  of  many  things.  He  had  won  a  victory 
which  was,  after  all,  but  a  compromise.  He  had 
chosen  the  safe  way,  but  it  led  over  the  body  of  a 
young  girl,  and  he  loathed  it.  Also,  he  thought  of 
Nikky,  and  what  might  be.  But  the  car  was  closed 
and  comfortable.  The  motion  soothed  him.  After  a 
time  he  dropped  asleep. 

The  valley  of  the  Ar  deepened.  The  cliff  rose 
above  them,  a  wall  broken  here  and  there  by  the  off 
take  of  narrow  ravines,  filled  with  forest  trees.  There 


174  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

was  a  pause  while  the  chains  on  the  rear  wheels  were 
supplemented  by  others  in  front,  for  there  must  be 
no  danger  of  a  skid.  And  another  pause,  where  the 
road  slanted  perilously  toward  the  brink  of  the 
chasm,  and  caution  dictated  that  the  Chancellor 
alight,  and  make  a  hundred  feet  or  so  of  dangerous 
curve  afoot. 

It  required  diplomacy  to  get  him  out.  But  it  was 
finally  done,  and  his  heavy  figure,  draped  in  its  mili 
tary  cape,  went  on  ahead,  outlined  by  the  lamps  of 
the  car  behind  him.  The  snow  was  hardly  more  than 
a  coating,  but  wet  and  slippery.  Mettlich  stalked 
on,  as  one  who  would  defy  the  elements,  or  anything 
else,  to  hinder  him  that  night. 

He  was  well  around  the  curve,  and  the  cliff  was 
broken  by  a  wedge  of  timber,  when  a  curiously 
shaped  object  projected  itself  over  the  edge  of  the 
bank,  and  rolling  down,  lay  almost  at  his  feet.  The 
lamps  brought  it  into  sharp  relief  —  a  man,  gagged 
and  tied,  and  rolled,  cigar  shaped,  in  an  automobile 
robe. 

The  Chancellor  turned,  and  called  to  his  men. 
Then  he  bent  over  the  bundle.  The  others  ran  up, 
and  cut  the  bonds.  What  with  cold  and  long  in 
action,  and  his  recent  drop  over  the  bank,  the  man 
could  not  speak.  One  of  the  secret-service  men  had 
a  flask,  and  held  it  to  his  lips.  An  amazing  situa 
tion,  indeed,  increased  by  the  discovery  that  under 
the  robe  he  wore  only  his  undergarments,  with  a 
soldier's  tunic  wrapped  around  his  shoulders.  They 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD  175 

carried  him  into  the  car,  where  he  lay  with  head  loll 
ing  back,  and  his  swollen  tongue  protruding.  Half 
dead  he  was,  with  cold  and  long  anxiety.  The  brandy 
cleared  his  mind  long  before  he  could  speak,  and  he 
saw  by  the  uniforms  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy.  He  turned  sulkily  silent  then,  convinced 
that  he  had  escaped  one  death  but  to  meet  another. 
Twenty-four  hours  now  he  had  faced  eternity,  and 
he  was  ready. 

He  preferred,  however,  to  die  fully  clothed,  and 
when,  in  response  to  his  pointing  up  the  bank  and  to 
his  inarticulate  mouthings,  one  of  the  secret  police 
examined  the  bit  of  woodland  with  his  pocket  flash, 
he  found  a  pair  of  trousers  where  Nikky  had  left 
them,  neatly  folded  and  hung  over  the  branch  of  a 
tree.  The  brandy  being  supplemented  by  hot  coffee 
from  a  patent  bottle,  the  man  revived  further, 
made  an  effort,  and  sat  up.  His  tongue  was  still 
swollen,  but  they  made  out  what  he  said.  He  had 
been  there  since  the  night  before.  People  had  passed, 
a  few  peasants,  a  man  with  a  cart,  but  he  could  not 
cry  out,  and  he  had  hesitated  to  risk  the  plunge  to 
the  road.  But  at  last  he  had  made  it.  He  was  of 
Karnia,  and  a  King's  messenger. 

"I  was  coming  back  from  the  barrier,"  he  said 
thickly,  "where  I  had  carried  dispatches  to  the  offi 
cer  in  charge.  On  my  return  a  man  hailed  me  from 
the  side  of  the  road,  near  where  you  found  me.  I 
thought  that  he  desired  to  be  taken  on,  and  stopped 
my  car.  But  he  attacked  me.  He  was  armed  and 


1 76  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

I  was  not.  He  knocked  me  senseless,  and  when  I 
awakened  I  was  above  the  road,  among  trees.  I  gave 
myself  up  when  the  snow  commenced.  Few  pass 
this  way.  But  I  heard  your  car  coming  and  made  a 
desperate  effort." 

"Then,"  asked  one  of  the  agents,  "these  are  not 
your  clothes?" 

"They  are  his,  sir." 

The  agent  produced  a  flash-light  and  inspected  the 
garments.  Before  the  Chancellor's  eyes,  button  by 
button,  strap  on  the  sleeve,  star  on  the  cuff,  came 
into  view  the  uniform  of  a  captain  of  his  own  regi 
ment,  the  Grenadiers.  Then  one  of  his  own  men  had 
done  this  infamous  thing,  one  of  his  own  officers, 
indeed. 

"Go  through  the  pockets,"  he  continued  sternly. 

Came  into  view  under  the  flash  a  pair  of  gloves,  a 
box  of  matches,  a  silk  handkerchief,  a  card-case. 
The  agent  said  nothing,  but  passed  a  card  to  the 
Chancellor,  who  read  it  without  comment. 

There  was  silence  in  the  car. 

At  last  the  Chancellor  stirred.  "This  man  —  he 
took  your  car  on?" 

"Yes.  And  he  has  not  returned.  No  other  machine 
has  passed." 

The  secret-service  men  exchanged  glances.  There 
was  more  to  this  than  appeared.  Somewhere 
ahead,  then,  was  Nikky  Larisch,  with  a  motor 
that  did  not  belong  to  him,  and  wearing  clothing 
which  his  victim  described  as  a  chauffeur's  coat 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN   ROAD  177 

of  leather,  breeches  and  puttees,  and  a  fur  greatcoat 
over  all. 

"Had  the  snow  commenced  when  this  happened?  " 

"  Not  then,  sir.   Shortly  after." 

"Go  out  with  the  driver,"  the  Chancellor  or 
dered  one  of  his  men,  "and  watch  the  road  for  the 
tracks  of  another  car.  Go  slowly." 

So  it  was  that,  after  an  hour  or  so,  they  picked  up 
Nikky's  trail,  now  twenty-four  hours  old  but  still 
clear,  and  followed  it.  The  Chancellor  was  awake 
enough  by  this  time,  and  bending  forward.  The  man 
they  had  rescued  slept  heavily.  As  the  road  de 
scended  into  the  foothills,  there  were  other  tracks 
in  the  thin  snow,  and  more  than  once  they  roused 
Nikky's  victim  to  pick  out  his  own  tire  marks.  He 
obeyed  dully.  When  at  last  the  trail  turned  from 
the  highway  toward  the  shooting-box  at  Wedeling, 
Mettlich  fell  back  with  something  between  a  curse 
and  a  groan. 

"The  fool!"  he  muttered.  "The  young  fool!  It 
was  madness." 

At  last  they  drew  up  at  an  inn  in  the  village  on  the 
royal  preserve,  and  the  Chancellor,  looking  rather 
gray,  alighted.  He  directed  that  the  man  they  had 
rescued  be  brought  in.  The  Chancellor  was  not  for 
losing  him  just  yet.  He  took  a  room  for  him  at  the 
inn,  and  rather  cavalierly  locked  him  in  it. 

The  dull-eyed  landlord,  yawning  as  he  lighted  the 
party  upstairs  with  candles,  apparently  neither  no 
ticed  nor  cared  that  the  three  of  them  surrounded 


178  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

a  fourth,  and  that  the  fourth  looked  both  sullen 
and  ill. 

The  car,  with  one  of  the  secret-service  men,  Mett- 
lich  sent  on  to  follow  Nikky's  trail,  and  to  report  it 
to  him.  The  other  man  was  assigned  to  custody  of 
the  chauffeur.  The  Chancellor,  more  relieved  than 
he  would  have  acknowledged,  reflected  before  a  fire 
and  over  a  glass  of  hot  milk  that  he  was  rather  un 
propitiously  bringing  Karl  a  bride! 

It  was  almost  four  in  the  morning  when  the  police 
agent  returned.  The  track  he  had  followed  appar 
ently  led  into  the  grounds  of  Wedeling,  but  was 
there  lost  in  many  others.  It  did  not,  so  far  as  he 
could  discover,  lead  beyond  the  lodge  gates. 

The  Chancellor  sipped  his  hot  milk  and  considered. 
Nikky  Larisch  a  prisoner  in  Karl's  hands  caused 
him  less  anxiety  than  it  would  have  a  month  before. 
But  what  was  behind  it  all? 

The  inn,  grumbling  at  its  broken  rest,  settled 
down  to  sleep  again.  The  two  secret-service  agents 
took  turns  on  chairs  outside  their  prisoner's  door, 
glancing  in  occasionally  to  see  that  he  still  slept  in 
his  built-in  bed. 

At  a  little  before  five  the  man  outside  the  pris 
oner's  door  heard  something  inside  the  room.  He 
glanced  in.  All  was  quiet.  The  prisoner  slept 
heavily,  genuine  sleep.  There  was  no  mistaking  it, 
the  sleep  of  a  man  warm  after  long  cold  and  exhaus 
tion,  weary  after  violent  effort.  The  agent  went  out 
again,  and  locked  the  door  behind  him. 


ON   THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD  179 

And  as  the  door  closed,  a  trap-door  from  the 
kitchen  below  opened  softly  under  the  sleeping 
man's  bed.  With  great  caution  came  the  landlord, 
head  first,  then  shoulders.  The  space  was  cramped. 
He  crawled  up,  like  a  snake  out  of  a  hole,  and  ducked 
behind  the  curtains  of  the  bed.  All  was  still  quiet, 
save  that  the  man  outside  struck  a  match  and 
lighted  a  pipe. 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  Chancellor's  prisoner,  still 
stiff  and  weak,  was  making  his  way  toward  the  hunt 
ing-lodge. 

Kaiser  saw  him  first,  and  found  the  story  unen- 
lightening.  Nor  could  Karl,  roused  by  a  terrified 
valet,  make  much  more  of  it.  When  the  man  had 
gone,  Karl  lay  back  among  his  pillows  and  eyed  his 
agent. 

"So  Mettlich  is  here!"  he  said.  "A  hasty  jour 
ney.  They  must  be  eager." 

"They  must  be  in  trouble,"  Kaiser  observed 
dryly.  And  on  that  uncomplimentary  comment 
King  Karl  slept,  his  face  drawn  into  a  wry  smile. 

But  he  received  the  Chancellor  of  Livonia  cor 
dially  the  next  morning,  going  himself  to  the  lodge 
doorstep  to  meet  his  visitor,  and  there  shaking  hands 
with  him. 

"  I  am  greatly  honored,  Excellency,"  he  said,  with 
his  twisted  smile. 

"And  I,  sire." 

But  the  Chancellor  watched  him  from  under  his 
shaggy  brows.  The  messenger  had  escaped.  By  now 


iSo  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Karl  knew  the  story,  knew  of  his  midnight  ride 
over  the  mountains,  and  the  haste  it  indicated.  He 
sheathed  himself  in  dignity,  did  the  Chancellor,  held 
his  head  high  and  moved  ponderously,  as  became 
one  who  came  to  talk  of  important  matters,  but  not 
to  ask  a  boon. 

Karl  himself  led  the  way  to  his  study,  ignoring  the 
chamberlain,  and  stood  aside  to  let  Mettlich  enter. 
Then  he  followed  and  closed  the  door. 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since  you  have  honored  Karnia 
with  a  visit,"  Karl  observed.  "Will  you  sit  down?" 

Karl  himself  did  not  sit.  He  stood  negligently 
beside  the  mantel,  an  arm  stretched  along  it. 

"Not  since  the  battle  of  the  Ar,  sire,"  replied  the 
Chancellor  dryly.  He  had  headed  an  army  of  inva 
sion  then. 

Karl  smiled.  "I  hope  that  now  your  errand  is 
more  peaceful." 

For  answer  the  Chancellor  opened  a  portfolio  he 
carried,  and  fumbled  among  its  papers.  But,  having 
found  the  right  one,  he  held  it  without  opening  it. 
"Before  we  come  to  that,  sire,  you  have  here,  I  be 
lieve,  detained  for  some  strange  reason,  a  Captain 
Larisch,  aide-de-camp  "  —  he  paused  for  effect  —  "to 
His  Royal  Highness,  the  Crown  Prince  of  Livonia." 

Karl  glanced  up  quickly.  "Perhaps,  if  you  will 
describe  this  —  gentleman  — " 

"Nonsense,"  said  the  Chancellor  testily.  "You 
have  him.  We  have  traced  him  here.  Although  by 
what  authority  you  hold  him  I  fail  to  understand.  I 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD  181 

am  here  to  find  out  what  you  have  done  with  him." 
The  paper  trembled  in  the  old  man's  hand.  He  knew 
very  well  Karl's  quick  anger,  and  he  feared  for 
Nikky  —  feared  horribly. 

"Done  with  him?"  echoed  Karl.  "If  as  Captain 
Larisch  you  refer  to  a  madman  who  the  night  be 
fore  last— " 

"I  do,  sire.   Madman  is  the  word." 

Of  course,  it  is  not  etiquette  to  interrupt  a  king. 
But  kings  were  no  novelty  to  the  Chancellor.  And 
quite  often,  for  reasons  of  state,  he  had  found  inter 
ruptions  necessary. 

"He  is  a  prisoner,"  Karl  said,  in  a  new  tone,  stern 
enough  now.  "He  assaulted  and  robbed  one  of  my 
men.  He  stole  certain  documents.  That  he  has  not 
suffered  for  it  already  was  because  —  well,  because 
I  believed  that  the  unfortunate  distrust  between 
your  country  and  mine,  Excellency,  was  about  to 
end." 

A  threat  that,  undoubtedly.  Let  the  arrange 
ment  between  Karnia  and  Livonia  be  made,  with 
Hedwig  to  seal  the  bargain,  and  Nikky  was  safe 
enough.  But  let  Livonia  demand  too  much,  or  not 
agree  at  all,  and  Nikky  was  lost.  Thus  did  Nikky 
Larisch  play  his  small  part  in  the  game  of  nations. 

"Suppose,"  said  Karl  unctuously,  "that  we  dis 
cuss  first  another  more  important  matter.  I  confess 
to  a  certain  impatience."  He  bowed  slightly. 

The  Chancellor  hesitated.  Then  he  glanced 
thoughtfully  at  the  paper  in  his  hand. 


1 82  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Through  a  long  luncheon,  the  two  alone  and  even 
the  servants  dismissed,  through  a  longer  afternoon, 
negotiations  went  on.  Mettlich  fought  hard  on  some 
points,  only  to  meet  defeat.  Karl  stood  firm.  The 
great  fortresses  on  the  border  must  hereafter  con 
tain  only  nominal  garrisons.  For  the  seaport  strip 
he  had^almost  doubled  his  price.  The  railroad  must 
be  completed  within  two  years. 

"Since  I  made  my  tentative  proposal,"  Karl  said, 
"certain  things  have  come  to  my  ears  which  must  be 
considered.  A  certain  amount  of  unrest  we  all  have. 
It  is  a  part  of  the  times  we  live  in.  But  strange  stories 
have  reached  us  here,  that  your  revolutionary  party 
is  again  active,  and  threatening.  This  proposal  was 
made  to  avoid  wars,  not  to  marry  them.  And  civil 
war — "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"You  have  said  yourself,  sire,  that  we  all  have  a 
certain  discontent." 

"The  Princess  Hedwig,"  Karl  said  suddenly. 
"She  has  been  told,  of  course?" 

"  Not  officially.  She  knows,  however." 

"How  does  she  regard  it?" 

The  Chancellor  hesitated.  "Like  most  young 
women,  she  would  prefer  making  her  own  choice. 
But  that,"  he  added  hastily,  "  is  but  a  whim.  She  is 
a  lovable  and  amiable  girl.  When  the  time  comes, 
she  will  be  willing  enough." 

Karl  stared  out  through  one  of  the  heavily  cur 
tained  windows.  He  was  not  so  sure.  And  the  time 
had  gone  by  when  he  would  have  enjoyed  the  taming 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD  183 

of  a  girl.  Now  he  wanted  peace  —  was  he  not  paying 
a  price  for  it?  —  and  children  to  inherit  his  well- 
managed  kingdom.  And  perhaps  —  who  knows? 
—  a  little  love.  His  passionate  young  days  were  be 
hind  him,  but  he  craved  something  that  his  unruly 
life  had  not  brought  him.  Before  him  rose  a  vision 
of  Hedwig,  her  frank  eyes,  her  color  that  rose  and 
fell,  her  soft,  round  body. 

"You  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  she  has  — 
looked  elsewhere?" 

"None,  sire,"  said  the  Chancellor  stoutly. 

By  late  afternoon  all  was  arranged,  papers  signed 
and  witnessed,  and  the  two  signatures  affixed,  the 
one  small  and  cramped  —  a  soldier's  hand ;  the  other 
bold  and  flowing  —  the  scrawl  of  a  king.  And  Hed 
wig,  save  for  the  ceremony,  was  the  bride  of  Karl  of 
Karnia. 

It  was  then  that  the  Chancellor  rose  and  stretched 
his  legs.  "And  now,  sire,"  he  said,  "since  we  are 
friends  and  no  longer  enemies,  you  will,  I  know,  re 
lease  that  mad  boy  of  mine." 

"When  do  you  start  back?" 

"Within  an  hour." 

"Before  that  time,"  said  Karl,  "you  shall  have 
him,  Chancellor." 

And  with  that  Mettlich  was  forced  to  be  content. 
He  trusted  Karl  no  more  now  than  he  ever  had.  But 
he  made  his  adieus  with  no  hint  of  trouble  in  his  face. 

Karl  waited  until  the  machine  drove  away.  He 
had  gone  to  the  doorstep  with  the  Chancellor,  de- 


1 84  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

siring  to  do  him  all  possible  honor.  But  Mettlich, 
unaccustomed  to  democratic  ways,  disapproved  of 
the  proceeding,  and  was  indeed  extremely  uncom 
fortable,  and  drew  a  sigh  of  relief  when  it  was  all 
over.  He  was  of  the  old  order  which  would  keep  its 
royalties  on  gilded  thrones  and,  having  isolated  them 
in  grandeur,  have  gone  about  the  business  of  the 
kingdom  without  them. 

Karl  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  open  air.  It  was 
done,  then,  and  well  done.  It  was  hard  to  realize. 
He  turned  to  the  west,  where  for  so  long  behind  the 
mountains  had  lurked  an  enemy.  A  new  era  was 
opening;  peace,  disarmament,  a  quiet  and  prosper 
ous  land.  He  had  spent  his  years  of  war  and  women. 
That  was  over. 

From  far  away  in  the  forest  he  heard  the  baying 
of  the  hounds.  The  crisp  air  filled  his  lungs.  And 
even  as  he  watched,  a  young  doe,  with  rolling  eyes, 
leaped  across  the  drive.  Karl  watched  it  with  coolly 
speculative  eyes. 

When  he  returned  to  the  study  the  agent  Kaiser 
was  already  there.  In  the  democracy  of  the  lodge 
men  came  and  went  almost  at  will.  But  Karl,  big 
with  plans  for  the  future,  would  have  been  alone, 
and  eyed  the  agent  with  disfavor. 

"Well?  "he  demanded. 

"We  have  been  able  to  search  the  Chancellor's 
rooms,  sire,"  the  agent  said,  "for  the  articles  men 
tioned  last  night  —  a  card-case,  gloves,  and  a  silk 
handkerchief,  belonging  to  the  prisoner  upstairs. 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD  185 

He  is  Captain  Larisch,  aide-de-camp  to  the  Crown 
Prince  of  Livonia." 

He  had  expected  Karl  to  be  impressed.  But  Karl 
only  looked  at  him.  "I  know  that,"  he  said  coldly. 
"You  are  always  just  a  little  late  with  your  infor 
mation,  Kaiser." 

Something  like  malice  showed  in  the  agent's  face. 
"Then  you  also  know,  sire,  that  it  is  this  Captain 
Larisch  with  whom  rumor  couples  the  name  of  the 
Princess  Hedwig."  He  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two 
at  sight  of  Karl's  face.  "You  requested  such  in 
formation,  sire." 

For  answer,  Karl  pointed  to  the  door. 

For  some  time  after  he  had  dismissed  the  agent, 
Karl  paced  his  library  alone.  Kaiser  brought  no 
unverified  information.  Therefore  the  thing  was 
true.  Therefore  he  had  had  his  enemy  in  his  hand, 
and  now  was  pledged  to  let  him  go.  For  a  time, 
then,  Karl  paid  the  penalty  of  many  misdeeds.  His 
triumph  was  ashes  in  his  mouth. 

What  if  this  boy,  infatuated  with  Hedwig,  had 
hidden  somewhere  on  the  road  Olga  Loschek's  let 
ter?  What,  then,  if  he  recovered  it  and  took  it  to 
Hedwig?  What  if - 

But  at  last  he  sent  for  the  prisoner  upstairs,  and 
waited  for  him  with  both  jealousy  and  fear  in  his 
eyes. 

Five  minutes  later  Nikky  Larisch  was  ushered 
into  the  red  study,  and  having  bowed,  an  insolent 
young  bow  at  that,  stood  and  eyed  the  King. 


1 86  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"I  have  sent  for  you  to  release  you,"  said  Karl. 

Nikky  drew  a  long  breath.   "  I  am  grateful,  sire." 

"You  have  been  interceded  for  by  the  Chancel 
lor  of  Livonia,  General  Mettlich,  who  has  just  gone." 

Nikky  bowed. 

"Naturally,  since  you  said  nothing  of  your  iden 
tity,  we  could  not  know  that  you  belonged  to  His 
Majesty's  household.  Under  the  circumstances,  it 
is  a  pleasure  to  give  you  your  freedom." 

Nikky  bowed  again. 

Karl  fixed  him  with  cold  eyes.  "But  before  you 
take  leave  of  us,"  he  said  ironically,  "I  should  like 
the  true  story  of  the  night  before  last.  Somehow, 
somewhere,  a  letter  intended  for  me  was  exchanged 
for  a  blank  paper.  I  want  that  letter." 

"I  know  no  more  than  you,  sire.  It  is  not  rea 
sonable  that  I  would  have  taken  the  risk  I  took  for 
an  envelope  containing  nothing." 

"For  that  matter,"  said  His  Majesty,  "there  was 
nothing  reasonable  about  anything  you  did!" 

And  now  Karl  played  his  trump  card,  played  it 
with  watchful  eyes  on  Nikky's  face.  He  would  see 
if  report  spoke  the  truth,  if  this  blue-eyed  boy  was 
in  love  with  Hedwig.  He  was  a  jealous  man,  this 
Karl  of  the  cold  eyes,  jealous  and  passionate.  Not 
as  a  king,  then,  watching  a  humble  soldier  of  Li 
vonia,  but  as  man  to  man,  he  gazed  at  Nikky. 

"For  fear  that  loyalty  keeps  you  silent,  I  may 
say  to  you  that  the  old  troubles  between  Karnia  and 
Livonia  are  over." 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN   ROAD  187 

"I  do  not  understand,  sire." 

Karl  hesitated.  Then,  with  his  twisted  smile,  he 
cast  the  rigid  etiquette  of  such  matters  to  the  winds. 
"  It  is  very  simple,"  he  said.  "There  will  be  no  more 
trouble  between  these  two  neighboring  countries, 
because  a  marriage  has  to-day  been  arranged  —  a 
marriage  between  the  Princess  Hedwig,  His  Maj 
esty's  granddaughter,  and  myself." 

For  a  moment  Nikky  Larisch  closed  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  FORTRESS 

THE  anniversary  of  the  death  of  Prince  Hubert 
dawned  bright  and  sunny.  The  Place  showed  a 
thin  covering  of  snow,  which  clung,  wet  and  sticky, 
to  the  trees;  but  by  nine  o'clock  most  of  it  had  dis 
appeared,  and  Prince  Ferdinand  Willliam  Otto  was 
informed  that  the  excursion  would  take  place. 

Two  motors  took  the  party,  by  back  streets,  to 
the  landing-stage.  In  the  first  were  Annunciata, 
Hedwig,  and  the  Countess,  and  at  the  last  moment 
Otto  had  salvaged  Miss  Braithwaite  from  the  sec 
ond  car,  and  begged  a  place  for  her  with  him.  A 
police  agent  sat  beside  the  chauffeur.  Also  another 
car,  just  ahead,  contained  other  agents,  by  Mett- 
lich's  order  before  his  departure  —  a  plain  black 
motor,  without  the  royal  arms. 

In  the  second  machine  followed  a  part  of  the 
suite,  Hedwig's  lady  in  waiting,  two  gentlemen  of 
the  Court,  in  parade  dress,  and  Father  Gregory, 
come  from  his  monastery  at  Etzel  to  visit  his  old 
friend,  the  King. 

At  the  landing-stage  a  small  crowd  had  gathered 
on  seeing  the  red  carpet  laid  and  the  gilt  ropes  put 
up,  which  indicated  a  royal  visit.  A  small  girl,  with 
a  hastily  secured  bouquet  in  her  hot  hands,  stood 


THE  FORTRESS  189 

nervously  waiting.  In  deference  to  the  anniversary, 
the  flowers  were  tied  with  a  black  ribbon ! 

Annunciata  grumbled  when  she  saw  the  crowd, 
and  the  occupants  of  the  first  car  looked  them  over 
carefully.  It  remained  for  Hedwig  to  spy  the  black 
ribbon.  In  the  confusion,  she  slipped  over  to  the 
little  girl,  who  went  quite  white  with  excitement. 
"They  are  lovely,"  Hedwig  whispered,  "but  please 
take  off  the  black  ribbon."  The  child  eyed  her  anx 
iously.  "It  will  come  to  pieces,  Highness." 

"Take  the  ribbon  from  your  hair.  It  will  be  beau 
tiful." 

Which  was  done!  But,  as  was  not  unnatural,  the 
child  forgot  her  speech,  and  merely  thrust  the  bou 
quet,  tied  with  a  large  pink  bow,  into  the  hands  of 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto. 

"Here,"  she  said.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  briefest, 
and  therefore  the  most  agreeable  presentation  speech 
the  Crown  Prince  had  ever  heard. 

Red  carpet  and  gold  ropes  and  white  gloves  — 
these  last  on  the  waiting  officers  —  made  the  scene 
rather  gay.  The  spring  sun  shone  on  the  gleaming 
river,  on  the  white  launch  with  its  red  velvet  cush 
ions,  on  the  deck  chairs,  its  striped  awnings  and 
glittering  brass,  on  the  Crown  Prince,  in  uniform, 
on  the  bouquet  and  the  ribbon.  But  somewhere,  back 
of  the  quay,  a  band  struck  up  a  funeral  march,  and 
a  beggar,  sitting  in  the  sun,  put  his  hand  to  his  ear. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  to  no  one  in  particular.  " It 
is  the  day.  I  had  forgotten." 


190  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

The  quay  receded,  red  carpet  and  all.  Only  the 
blare  of  the  band  followed  them,  and  with  the  per 
sistence  of  sound  over  water,  followed  them  for  some 
time.  The  Crown  Prince  put  down  the  bouquet, 
and  proceeded  to  stand  near  the  steersman. 

"When  I  am  grown  up,"  he  observed  to  that  em 
barrassed  sailor,  "I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  steer  a 
boat." 

The  steersman  looked  about  cautiously.  The 
royal  guests  were  settling  themselves  in  chairs,  with 
rugs  over  their  knees.  "It  is  very  easy,  Your  Royal 
Highness,"  he  said.  "See,  a  turn  like  this,  and  what 
happens?  And  the  other  way  the  same." 

Followed  a  five  minutes  during  which  the  white 
launch  went  on  a  strange  and  devious  course,  and  the 
Crown  Prince  grew  quite  hot  and  at  least  two 
inches  taller.  It  was,  of  course,  the  Archduchess 
who  discovered  what  was  happening.  She  was  very 
disagreeable  about  it. 

The  Archduchess  was  very  disagreeable  about 
everything  that  day.  She  was  afraid  to  stay  in  the 
Palace,  and  afraid  to  leave  it.  And  just  when  she 
had  begun  to  feel  calm,  and  the  sun  and  fresh  air 
were  getting  in  their  work,  that  wretched  funeral 
band  had  brought  back  everything  she  was  trying 
to  forget. 

The  Countess  was  very  gay.  She  said  brilliant, 
rather  heartless  things  that  set  the  group  to  laugh 
ing,  and  in  the  intervals  she  eyed  Hedwig  with  nar 
rowed  eyes  and  hate  in  her  heart.  Hedwig  herself 


THE  FORTRESS  191 

was  very  quiet.  The  bouquet  had  contained  lilies- 
of-the-valley,  for  one  thing. 

Miss  Braithwaite  knitted,  and  watched  that  the 
Crown  Prince  kept  his  white  gloves  clean. 

Just  before  they  left  the  Palace  the  Archduchess 
had  had  a  moment  of  weakening,  but  the  Countess 
had  laughed  away  her  fears. 

"I  really  think  I  shall  not  go,  after  all,"  Annun- 
ciata  had  said  nervously.  "There  are  reasons." 

The  Countess  had  smiled  mockingly.  "  Reasons ! " 
she  said.  "  I  know  that  many  things  are  being  said. 
But  I  also  know  that  General  Mettlich  is  an  alarm 
ist,"  purred  the  Countess.  "And  that  the  King  is 
old  and  ill,  and  sees  through  gray  glasses." 

So  the  Archduchess  had  submitted  to  having  a 
plumed  and  inappropriate  hat  set  high  on  her  head, 
regardless  of  the  fashion,  and  had  pinned  on  two 
watches  and  gone. 

It  was  Hedwig  who  showed  the  most  depression 
on  the  trip,  after  all.  Early  that  morning  she  had 
attended  mass  in  the  royal  chapel.  All  the  household 
had  been  there,  and  the  King  had  been  wheeled  in, 
and  had  sat  in  his  box,  high  in  the  wall,  the  door  of 
which  opened  from  his  private  suite. 

Looking  up,  Hedwig  had  seen  his  gray  old  face 
set  and  rigid.  The  Court  had  worn  black,  and  the 
chapel  was  draped  in  crepe.  She  had  fallen  on  her 
knees  and  had  tried  dutifully  to  pray  for  the  dead 
Hubert.  But  her  whole  soul  was  crying  out  for  help 
for  herself. 


192  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

So  now  she  sat  very  quiet,  and  wondered  about 
things. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  sat  by  the  rail 
and  watched  the  green  banks  flying  by.  In  one 
place  a  group  of  children  were  sailing  a  tiny  boat 
from  the  bank.  It  was  only  a  plank,  with  a  crazy 
cotton  sail.  They  shoved  it  off  and  watched  while 
the  current  seized  it  and  carried  it  along.  Then  they 
cheered,  and  called  good-bye  to  it. 

The  Crown  Prince  leaned  over  the  rail,  and  when 
the  current  caught  it,  he  cheered  too,  and  waved  his 
cap.  He  was  reproved,  of  course,  and  some  officious 
person  insisted  on  tucking  the  rug  around  his  royal 
legs.  But  when  no  one  was  looking,  he  broke  a 
flower  from  the  bouquet  and  flung  it  overboard. 
He  pretended  that  it  was  a  boat,  and  was  going 
down  to  Karnia,  filled  with  soldiers  ready  to  fight. 

But  the  thought  of  soldiers  brought  Nikky  to 
his  mind.  His  face  clouded.  "It's  very  strange 
about  Nikky,"  he  said.  "He  is  away  somewhere. 
I  wish  he  had  sent  word  he  was  going." 

Hedwig  looked  out  over  the  river. 

The  Archduchess  glanced  at  Miss  Braithwaite. 
"There  is  no  news?"  she  asked,  in  an  undertone. 

"None,"  said  Miss  Braithwaite.  • 

A  sudden  suspicion  rose  in  Hedwig's  mind,  and 
made  her  turn  pale.  What  if  they  had  sent  him  away? 
Perhaps  they  feared  him  enough  for  that!  If  that 
were  true,  she  would  never  know.  She  knew  the 
ways  of  the  Palace  well  enough  for  that.  In  a  sort 


THE  FORTRESS  193 

of  terror  she  glanced  around  the  group,  so  comfor 
tably  disposed.  Her  mother  was  looking  out,  with 
her  cool,  impassive  gaze.  Miss  Braithwaite  knitted. 
The  Countess,  however,  met  her  eyes,  and  there 
was  something  strange  in  them:  triumph  and  a  bit 
of  terror,  too,  had  she  but  read  them.  For  the  Coun 
tess  had  put  in  her  plea  for  a  holiday  and  had  been 
refused. 

The  launch  drew  up  near  the  fort,  and  the  Crown 
Prince's  salute  of  a  certain  number  of  guns  was 
fired.  The  garrison  was  drawn  up  in  line,  and  looked 
newly  shaved  and  very,  very  neat.  And  the  officers 
came  out  and  stood  on  the  usual  red  carpet,  and 
bowed  deeply,  after  which  they  saluted  the  Crown 
Prince  and  he  saluted  them.  Then  the  Colonel  in 
charge  shook  hands  all  round,  and  the  band  played. 
It  was  all  very  ceremonious  and  took  a  lot  of  time. 

The  new  fortress  faced  the  highroad  some  five 
miles  from  the  Karnian  border.  It  stood  on  a  bluff 
over  the  river,  and  was,  as  the  Crown  Prince  decided, 
not  so  unlike  the  desk,  after  all,  except  that  it  had 
a  moat  around  it. 

Hedwig  and  the  Countess  went  with  the  party 
around  the  fortifications.  The  Archduchess  and 
Miss  Braithwaite  had  sought  a  fire.  Only  the 
Countess,  however,  seemed  really  interested.  Hed 
wig  seemed  more  intent  on  the  distant  line  of  the 
border  than  on  anything  else.  She  stood  on  a  ram 
part  and  stared  out  at  it,  looking  very  sad.  Even 
the  drill  —  when  at  a  word  all  the  great  guns  rose 


i94  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

and  peeped  over  the  edge  at  the  valley  below,  and 
then  dropped  back  again  as  if  they  had  seen  enough 
—  even  this  failed  to  rouse  her. 

"I  wish  you  would  listen,  Hedwig,"  said  the 
Crown  Prince,  almost  fretfully.  "It's  so  interest 
ing.  The  enemy's  soldiers  would  come  up  the  river 
in  boats,  and  along  that  road  on  foot.  And  then  we 
would  raise  the  guns  and  shoot  at  them.  And  the 
guns  would  drop  back  again,  before  the  enemy  had 
time  to  aim  at  them." 

But  Hedwig's  interest  was  so  evidently  assumed 
that  he  turned  to  the  Countess.  The  Countess  pro 
fessed  smiling  terror,  and  stood  a  little  way  back 
from  the  guns,  looking  on.  But  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  at  last  coaxed  her  to  the  top  of  the 
emplacement. 

"There's  a  fine  view  up  there,"  he  urged.  "And 
the  guns  won't  hurt  you.  There's  nothing  in 
them." 

To  get  up  it  was  necessary  to  climb  an  iron  lad 
der.  Hedwig  was  already  there.  About  a  dozen 
young  officers  had  helped  her  up,  and  ruined  as 
many  pairs  of  white  gloves,  although  Hedwig  could 
climb  like  a  cat,  and  really  needed  no  help  at  all. 

"You  go  up,"  said  the  Crown  Prince  eagerly. 
"I'll  hold  your  bag,  so  you  can  climb." 

He  caught  her  handbag  from  her,  and  instantly 
something  snapped  in  it.  The  Countess  was  climb 
ing  up  the  ladder.  Rather  dismayed,  Prince  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto  surveyed  the  bag.  Something 


THE  FORTRESS  195 

had  broken,  he  feared.  And  in  another  moment  he 
saw  what  it  was.  The  little  watch  which  was  set 
in  one  side  of  it  had  slipped  away,  leaving  a  round 
black  hole.  His  heart  beat  a  trifle  faster. 

"  I  'm  awfully  worried,"  he  called  up  to  her,  as  he 
climbed.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  Ve  broken  your  bag.  Some 
thing  clicked,  and  the  watch  is  gone.  It  is  not  on 
the  ground. 

It  was  well  for  the  Countess  that  the  Colonel  was 
talking  to  Hedwig.  Well  for  her,  too,  that  the  other 
officers  were  standing  behind  with  their  eyes  wor- 
shipfully  on  the  Princess.  The  Countess  turned 
gray-white. 

"Don't  worry,  Highness,"  she  said,  with  stiff 
lips.  "The  watch  falls  back  sometimes.  I  must 
have  it  repaired." 

But  long  after  the  tour  of  the  ramparts  was 
over,  after  ammunition-rooms  had  been  visited,  with 
their  long  lines  of  waiting  shells,  after  the  switch 
board  which  controlled  the  river  mines  had  been 
inspected  and  explained,  she  was  still  trembling. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  looking  at  the 
bag  later  on,  saw  the  watch  in  place  and  drew  a 
long  breath  of  relief. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

OLD  ADELBERT 

OLD  Adelbert  of  the  Opera  had  lost  his  position. 
No  longer,  a  sausage  in  his  pocket  for  refreshment, 
did  he  leave  his  little  room  daily  for  the  Opera.  A 
young  man,  who  made  ogling  eyes  at  Olga,  of  the 
garde-robe,  and  who  was  not  careful  to  keep  the 
lenses  clean,  had  taken  his  place. 

He  was  hurt  in  his  soldier's  soul.  There  was  no 
longer  a  place  in  the  kingdom  for  those  who  had 
fought  for  it.  The  cry  was  for  the  young.  And  even 
in  the  first  twenty-four  hours  a  subtle  change  went 
on  in  him.  His  loyalty,  on  which  he  had  built  his 
creed  of  life,  turned  to  bitterness. 

The  first  day  of  his  idleness  he  wandered  into  the 
back  room  of  the  cobbler's  shop  near  by,  where  the 
butter-seller  from  the  corner,  the  maker  of  artificial 
flowers  for  graves,  and  the  cobbler  himself  were 
gathered,  and  listened  without  protest  to  such  talk 
as  would  have  roused  him  once  to  white  anger. 

But  the  iron  had  not  yet  gone  very  deep,  and  one 
thing  he  would  not  permit.  It  was  when,  in  the  con 
versation,  one  of  them  attacked  the  King.  Then 
indeed  he  was  roused  to  fury. 

"A  soldier  and  a  gentleman,"  he  said.  "For 
him  I  lost  this  leg  of  mine,  and  lost  it  without 


OLD  ADELBERT  197 

grieving.  When  I  lay  in  the  hospital  he  himself 
came,  and  — " 

A  burst  of  jeering  laughter  greeted  this,  for  he 
had  told  it  many  times.  Told  it,  because  it  was  all 
he  had  instead  of  a  leg,  and  although  he  could  not 
walk  on  it,  certainly  it  had  supported  him  through 
many  years. 

"As  for  the  little  Crown  Prince,"  he  went  on 
firmly.  "  I  have  seen  him  often.  He  came  frequently 
to  the  Opera.  He  has  a  fine  head  and  a  bright  smile. 
He  will  be  a  good  king." 

But  this  was  met  with  silence. 

Once  upon  a  time  a  student  named  Haeckel  had 
occasionally  backed  him  up  in  his  defense  of  the 
royal  family.  But  for  some  reason  or  other  Haeckel 
came  no  more,  and  old  Adelbert  missed  him.  He 
had  inquired  for  him  frequently. 

"Where  is  the  boy  Haeckel?"  he  had  asked  one 
day.  "I  have  not  seen  him  lately." 

No  one  had  replied.  But  a  sort  of  grim  silence 
settled  over  the  little  room.  Old  Adelbert,  however, 
was  not  discerning. 

"Perhaps,  as  a  student,  he  worked  too  hard"  — 
he  had  answered  his  own  question.  "They  must 
both  work  and  play  hard,  these  students.  A  fine 
lot  of  young  men.  I  have  watched  them  at  the 
Opera.  Most  of  them  preferred  Italian  to  German 
music." 

But,  that  first  day  of  idleness,  when  he  had  left 
the  cobbler's,  he  resolved  not  to  return.  They  had 


198  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

not  been  unfriendly,  but  he  had  seen  at  once  there 
was  a  difference.  He  was  no  longer  old  Adelbert  of 
the  Opera.  He  was  an  old  man  only,  and  out  of 
work. 

He  spent  hours  that  first  free  afternoon  repair 
ing  his  frayed  linen  and  his  shabby  uniform,  with  his 
wooden  leg  stretched  out  before  him  and  his  pipe 
clutched  firmly  in  his  teeth.  Then,  freshly  shaved  and 
brushed,  he  started  on  a  painful  search  after  work. 
With  no  result.  And,  indeed,  he  was  hopeless  before 
he  began.  He  was  old  and  infirm.  There  was  little 
that  he  had  even  the  courage  to  apply  for. 

True,  he  had  his  small  pension,  but  it  came  only 
twice  a  year,  and  was  sent,  intact,  to  take  care  of 
an  invalid  daughter  in  the  country.  That  was  not 
his.  He  never  used  a  penny  of  it.  And  he  had  saved 
a  trifle,  by  living  on  air,  as  the  concierge  declared. 
But  misfortunes  come  in  threes,  like  hres  and  other 
calamities.  The  afternoon  of  that  very  day  brought 
a  letter,  saying  that  the  daughter  was  worse  and 
must  have  an  operation.  Old  Adelbert  went  to 
church  and  burned  a  candle  for  her  recovery,  and 
from  there  to  the  bank,  to  send  by  registered  mail 
the  surgeon's  fee. 

He  was  bankrupt  in  twenty-four  hours. 

That  evening  in  his  extremity  he  did  a  reckless 
thing.  He  wrote  a  letter  to  the  King.  He  spent 
hours  over  it,  first  composing  it  in  pencil  and  then 
copying  it  with  ink  borrowed  from  the  concierge. 
It  began  "Sire,"  as  he  had  learned  was  the  form, 


OLD  ADELBERT  199 

and  went  on  to  remind  His  Majesty,  first,  of  the 
hospital  incident,  which,  having  been  forty  years 
ago,  might  have  slipped  the  royal  memory.  Then 
came  the  facts  —  his  lost  position,  his  daughter,  the 
handicap  of  his  wooden  leg.  It  ended  with  a  plea  for 
reinstatement  or,  failing  that,  for  any  sort  of  work. 

He  sent  it,  unfolded,  in  a  large  flat  envelope,  which 
also  he  had  learned  was  the  correct  thing  with  kings, 
who  for  some  reason  or  other  do  not  like  folded  com 
munications.  Then  he  waited.  He  considered  that 
a  few  hours  should  bring  a  return. 

No  answer  came.  No  answer  ever  came.  For  the 
King  was  ill,  and  secretaries  carefully  sifted  the 
royal  mail. 

He  waited  all  of  the  next  day,  and  out  of  the 
mixed  emotions  of  his  soul  confided  the  incident  of 
the  letter  to  Humbert,  in  his  bureau  below. 

The  concierge  smiled  in  his  beard.  "What  does 
the  King  care?"  he  demanded.  "He  will  never  see 
that  letter.  And  if  he  did  —  you  have  lived  long, 
my  friend.  Have  you  ever  known  the  King  to  give, 
or  to  do  anything  but  take?  Name  me  but  one  in 
stance." 

And  that  night,  in  the  concierge's  bureau,  he 
was  treated  to  many  incidents,  all  alike.  The  Gov 
ernment  took,  but  gave  nothing.  As  well  expect 
blood  out  of  a  stone.  Instances  were  given,  heart- 
lessness  piled  on  heartlessness,  one  sordid  story  on 
another. 

And  as  he  listened  there  died  in  old  Adelbert's 


200  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

soul  his  flaming  love  for  his  sovereign  and  his  belief 
in  him.  His  eyes  took  on  a  hard  and  haunted  look. 
That  night  he  walked  past  the  Palace  and  shook  his 
fist  at  it.  He  was  greatly  ashamed  of  that,  however, 
and  never  repeated  it.  But  his  soul  was  now  an 
open  sore,  ready  for  infection. 

And  Black  Humbert  bided  his  time. 

On  the  day  of  the  excursion  to  the  fortress  old 
Adelbert  decided  to  appeal  to  his  fellow  lodger,  Her 
man  Spier.  Now  and  then,  when  he  was  affluent, 
he  had  paid  small  tribute  to  Herman  by  means  of 
the  camp  cookery  on  which  he  prided  himself. 

"A  soldier's  mess!"  he  would  say,  and  bring  in  a 
bowl  of  soup,  or  a  slice  of  deer  meat,  broiled  over 
hot  coals  in  his  tiny  stove.  "Eat  it,  man.  These 
restaurants  know  nothing  of  food." 

To  Herman  now  he  turned  for  advice  and  help. 
It  was  difficult  to  find  the  clerk.  He  left  early,  and 
often  came  home  after  midnight  in  a  curious  frame 
of  mind,  a  drunkenness  of  excitement  that  was 
worse  than  that  of  liquor. 

Herman  could  not  help  him.  But  he  eyed  the  old 
soldier  appraisingly.  He  guessed  shrewdly  the  grow 
ing  uneasiness  behind  Adelbert's  brave  front.  If 
now  one  could  enlist  such  a  man  for  the  Cause,  that 
would  be  worth  doing.  He  had  talked  it  over  with 
the  concierge.  Among  the  veterans  the  old  man  was 
influential,  and  by  this  new  policy  of  substituting 
fresh  blood  for  stale,  the  Government  had  made 
many  enemies  among  them. 


OLD  ADELBERT  201 

"In  a  shop!"  he  said  coldly.  "With  that  leg? 
No,  my  friend.  Two  legs  are  hardly  enough  for 
what  we  have  to  do." 

"Then,  for  any  sort  of  work.  I  could  sweep  and 
clean." 

"I  shall  inquire,"  said  Herman  Spier.  But  he  did 
not  intend  to.  He  had  other  plans. 

The  old  man's  bitterness  had  been  increased  by 
two  things.  First,  although  he  had  been  dismissed 
without  notice,  in  the  middle  of  the  week,  he  had 
been  paid  only  up  to  the  hour  of  leaving.  That  was 
a  grievance.  Second,  being  slow  on  his  feet,  one  of 
the  royal  motor-cars  had  almost  run  him  down,  and 
the  police  had  cursed  him  roundly  for  being  in  the 
way. 

"Why  be  angry?"  observed  the  concierge,  on 
this  being  reported  to  him.  "The  streets  are  the 
King's.  Who  are  the  dogs  of  pedestrians  but  those 
that  pay  the  taxes  to  build  them?" 

At  last  he  determined  to  find  Haeckel,  the  stu 
dent.  He  did  not  know  his  Christian  name,  nor  where 
he  lodged.  But  he  knew  the  corps  he  belonged  to, 
by  his  small  gray  cap  with  a  red  band. 

He  was  very  nervous  when  he  made  this  final 
effort.  Corps  houses  were  curious  places,  he  had 
heard,  and  full  of  secrets.  Even  the  great  professors 
from  the  University  might  not  enter  without  invi 
tation.  And  his  experience  had  been  that  students 
paid  small  respect  to  uniforms  or  to  age.  In  truth, 
he  passed  the  building  twice  before  he  could  sum- 


202  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

mon  courage  to  touch  the  great  brass  knocker.  And 
the  arrogance  of  its  clamor,  when  at  last  he  rapped, 
startled  him  again.  But  here  at  least  he  need  not 
have  feared. 

The  student  who  was  also  doorkeeper  eyed  him 
kindly.  "Well,  comrade?"  he  said. 

"I  am  seeking  a  student  named  Haeckel,  of 
this  corps,"  said  old  Adelbert  stoutly. 

And  had  violated  all  etiquette,  too,  had  he  but 
known  it! 

' '  Haeckel  ? ' '  repeated  the  doorkeeper.  "  I  think  — 
come  in,  comrade.  I  will  inquire." 

For  the  name  of  Haeckel  was,  just  then,  one  curi 
ously  significant. 

He  disappeared,  and  old  Adelbert  waited.  When 
the  doorkeeper  returned,  it  was  to  tell  him  to  follow 
him,  and  to  lead  the  way  downstairs. 

There  dawned  on  the  old  man's  eyes  a  curious 
sight.  In  a  long  basement  room  were  perhaps  thirty 
students,  each  armed  with  a  foil,  and  wearing  a  wire 
mask.  A  half  dozen  lay  figures  on  springs  stood  in 
the  center  in  a  low  row,  and  before  these  perspiring 
youths  thrust  and  parried.  Some  of  them,  already 
much  scarred,  stood  and  watched.  This,  then,  was 
where  the  students  prepared  themselves  for  duels. 
Here  they  fought  the  mimic  battles  that  were  later 
on  to  lead  to  the  much-prized  scars. 

Old  Adelbert  stared  with  curious,  rather  scornful 
eyes.  The  rapier  he  destested.  Give  him  a  saber,  and 
a  free  field,  and  he  would  show  them.  Even  yet,  he 


OLD  ADELBERT  203 

felt,  he  had  not  lost  his  cunning.  And  the  saber  re 
quires  cunning  as  well  as  strength. 

Two  or  three  students  came  toward  him  at  once. 
"You  are  seeking  Haeckel?"  one  of  them  asked. 

"I  am.  I  knew  him,  but  not  well.  Lately,  how 
ever,  I  have  thought  —  is  he  here?" 

The  students  exchanged  glances.  "He  is  not 
here,"  one  said.  "Where  did  you  know  him?" 

"He  came  frequently  to  a  shop  I  know  of  —  a 
cobbler's  shop,  a  neighborhood  meeting-place.  A 
fine  lad.  I  liked  him.  But  recently  he  has  not  come, 
and  knowing  his  corps,  I  came  here  to  find  him." 

They  had  hoped  to  learn  something  from  him, 
and  he  knew  nothing.  "He  has  disappeared,"  they 
told  him.  "He  is  not  at  his  lodging,  and  he  has  left 
his  classes.  He  went  away  suddenly,  leaving  every 
thing.  That  is  all  we  know." 

It  sounded  sinister.  Old  Adelbert,  heavy-hearted, 
turned  away  and  climbed  again  to  the  street.  That 
gateway  was  closed,  too.  And  he  felt  a  pang  of  un 
easiness.  What  could  have  happened  to  the  boy? 
Was  the  world,  after  all,  only  a  place  of  trouble? 

But  now  came  good  fortune,  and,  like  evil,  it  came 
not  singly.  The  operation  was  over,  and  his  daugh 
ter  on  the  mend.  The  fee  was  paid  also.  And  the 
second  followed  on  the  heels  of  the  first. 

He  did  not  like  Americans.  Too  often,  in  better 
days,  had  he  heard  the  merits  of  the  American  re 
public  compared  with  the  shortcomings  of  his  own 
government.  When,  as  happened  now  and  then, 


204  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

he  met  the  American  family  on  the  staircase,  he 
drew  sharply  aside  that  no  touch  of  republicanism 
might  contaminate  his  uniform. 

On  that  day,  however,  things  changed. 

First  of  all,  he  met  the  American  lad  in  the  hall 
way,  and  was  pleased  to  see  him  doff  his  bit  of  a  cap. 
Not  many,  nowadays,  uncovered  a  head  to  him. 
The  American  lad  was  going  down;  Adelbert  was 
climbing,  one  step  at  a  time,  and  carrying  a  small 
basket  of  provisions. 

The  American  boy,  having  passed,  turned,  hesi 
tated,  went  back.  " I'd  like  to  carry  that  for  you,  if 
you  don't  mind." 

"Carry  it?" 

"I  am  very  strong,"  said  the  American  boy 
stoutly. 

So  Adelbert  gave  up  his  basket,  and  the  two  went 
up.  Four  long  flights  of  stone  stairs  led  to  Adel- 
bert's  room.  The  ascent  took  time  and  patience. 

At  the  door  Adelbert  paused.  Then,  loneliness 
overcoming  prejudice,  "Come  in,"  he  said. 

The  bare  little  room  appealed  to  the  boy.  "It's 
very  nice,  isn't  it?"  he  said.  "There's  nothing  to 
fall  over." 

"And  but  little  to  sit  on,"  old  Adelbert  added 
dryly.  ' '  However,  two  people  require  but  two  chairs. 
Here  is  one." 

But  the  boy  would  not  sit  down.  He  ranged  the 
room,  frankly  curious,  exclaimed  at  the  pair  of  ring 
doves  who  lived  in  a  box  tied  to  the  window-sill, 


OLD  ADELBERT  205 

and  asked  for  crumbs  for  them.  Adelbert  brought 
bread  from  his  small  store. 

The  boy  cheered  him.  His  interest  in  the  old  saber, 
the  intentness  with  which  he  listened  to  its  history, 
the  politeness  with  which  he  ignored  his  host's  in 
firmity,  all  won  the  old  man's  heart. 

These  Americans  downstairs  were  not  all  bad, 
then.  They  were  too  rich,  of  course.  No  one  should 
have  meat  three  times  a  day,  as  the  meat-seller  re 
ported  they  did.  And  they  were  paying  double  rent 
for  the  apartment  below.  But  that,  of  course,  they 
could  not  avoid,  not  knowing  the  real  charge. 

The  boy  was  frankly  delighted.  And  when  old 
Adelbert  brought  forth  from  his  basket  a  sausage 
and,  boiling  it  lightly,  served  him  a  slice  between 
two  pieces  of  bread,  an  odd  friendship  was  begun 
that  was  to  have  unforeseen  consequences.  They 
had  broken  bread  together. 

Between  the  very  old  and  the  very  young  come 
sometimes  these  strong  affections.  Perhaps  it  is 
that  age  harkens  back  to  the  days  of  its  youth,  and 
by  being  very  old,  becomes  young  again.  Or  is  it 
that  children  are  born  old,  with  the  withered,  small 
faces  of  all  the  past,  and  must,  year  by  year,  until 
their  maturity,  shed  this  mantle  of  age? 

Gradually,  over  the  meal,  and  the  pigeons,  and 
what  not,  old  Adelbert  unburdened  his  heart.  He 
told  of  his  years  at  the  Opera,  where  he  had  kept  his 
glasses  clean  and  listened  to  the  music  until  he  knew 
by  heart  even  the  most  difficult  passages.  He  told 


206  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

of  the  Crown  Prince,  who  always  wished  opera-glasses, 
not  because  he  needed  them,  but  because  he  liked 
to  turn  them  wrong  end  before,  and  thus  make  the 
audience  appear  at  a  great  distance.  And  then  he 
told  of  the  loss  of  his  position. 

The  American  lad  listened  politely,  but  his  mind 
was  on  the  Crown  Prince.  ' '  Does  he  wear  a  crown ? ' ' 
he  demanded.  "I  saw  him  once  in  a  carriage,  but  I 
think  he  had  a  hat." 

''At  the  coronation  he  will  wear  a  crown." 

"Do  people  do  exactly  what  he  tells  them?" 

Old  Adelbert  was  not  certain.  He  hedged,  rather. 
"Probably,  whenever  it  is  good  for  him." 

"Huh!  What's  the  use  of  being  a  prince?"  ob 
served  the  boy,  who  had  heard  of  privileges  being 
given  that  way  before.  "When  will  he  be  a  king?" 

"When  the  old  King  dies.  He  is  very  old  now.  I 
was  in  a  hospital  once,  after  a  battle.  And  he  came 
in.  He  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  like  this" 
he  illustrated  it  on  the  child's  small  one — "and 
said  —  Considering  that  old  Adelbert  no  longer 
loved  his  King,  it  is  strange  to  record  that  his  voice 
broke. 

"Will  he  die  soon?"  Bobby  put  in.  He  found 
kings  as  much  of  a  novelty  as  to  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  they  were  the  usual  thing.  Bobby's 
idea  of  kings,  however,  was  of  the  "off  with  his 
head"  order. 

"Who  knows?  But  when  he  does,  the  city  will 
learn  at  once.  The  great  bell  of  the  Cathedral, 


OLD  ADELBERT  207 

which  never  rings  save  at  such  times,  will  toll.  They 
say  it  is  a  sound  never  to  be  forgotten.  I,  of  course, 
have  never  heard  it.  When  it  tolls,  all  in  the  city 
will  fall  on  their  knees  and  pray.  It  is  the  custom." 

Bobby,  reared  to  strict  Presbyterianism  and  ac 
customed  to  kneeling  but  once  a  day,  and  that  at 
night  beside  his  bed,  in  the  strict  privacy  of  his  own 
apartment,  looked  rather  startled.  "What  will 
they  pray  for?"  he  said. 

And  old  Adelbert,  with  a  new  bitterness,  replied 
that  the  sons  of  kings  needed  much  prayer.  Some 
times  they  were  hard  and  did  cruel  things. 

"And  then  the  Crown  Prince  will  be  a  king," 
Bobby  reflected.  "  If  I  were  a  king,  I  'd  make  people 
stand  around.  And  I'd  have  an  automobile  and 
run  it  myself.  But  has  the  Crown  Prince  only  a 
grandfather,  and  no  father?" 

"He  died  —  the  boy's  father.  He  was  murdered, 
and  the  Princess  his  mother  also." 

Bobby's  eyes  opened  wide.   "Who  did  it?" 

"Terrorists,"  said  old  Adelbert.  And  would  not 
be  persuaded  to  say  more. 

That  night  at  dinner  Bobby  Thorpe  delivered 
himself  of  quite  a  speech.  He  sat  at  the  table,  and 
now  and  then,  when  the  sour-faced  governess  looked 
at  her  plate,  he  slipped  a  bit  of  food  to  his  dog,  which 
waited  beside  him. 

"There's  a  very  nice  old  man  upstairs,"  he  said. 
"He  has  a  fine  sword,  and  ring-doves,  and  a  wooden 
leg.  And  he  used  to  rent  opera-glasses  to  the  Crown 


208  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

Prince,  only  he  turned  them  around.  I  'm  going  to 
try  that  with  yours,  mother.  We  had  sausage  to 
gether,  and  he  has  lost  his  position,  and  he's  never 
been  on  the  Scenic  Railway,  father.  I  'd  like  some 
tickets  for  him.  He  would  like  riding,  I  'm  sure, 
because  walking  must  be  pretty  hard.  And  what  I 
want  to  know  is  this:  Why  can't  you  give  him  a 
job,  father?" 

Bobby  being  usually  taciturn  at  the  table,  and  en 
tirely  occupied  with  food,  the  family  stared  at  him. 

"What  sort  of  a  job,  son?  A  man  with  one  leg!" 

"He  does  n't  need  legs  to  chop  tickets  with." 

The  governess  listened.  She  did  not  like  Ameri 
cans.  Barbarians  they  were,  and  these  were  of  the 
middle  class,  being  in  trade.  For  a  scenic  railway 
is  trade,  naturally.  Except  that  they  paid  a  fat 
salary,  with  an  extra  month  at  Christmas,  she  would 
not  be  there.  She  and  Pepy,  the  maid,  had  many  dis 
putes  about  this.  But  Pepy  was  a  Dalmatian,  and 
did  not  matter. 

"He  means  the  old  soldier  upstairs,"  said  Bobby's 
mother  softly.  She  was  a  gentle  person.  Her  eyes 
were  wide  and  childlike,  and  it  was  a  sort  of  religion 
of  the  family  to  keep  them  full  of  happiness. 

This  also  the  governess  could  not  understand. 

"So  the  old  soldier  is  out  of  work,"  mused  the 
head  of  the  family.  Head,  thought  the  governess! 
When  they  wound  him  about  their  fingers! 
She  liked  men  of  sterner  stuff.  In  her  mountain 
country  the  men  did  as  they  wished,  and  sometimes 


OLD  ADELBERT  209 

beat  their  wives  by  way  of  showing  their  authority. 
Under  no  circumstances,  she  felt,  would  this  young 
man  ever  beat  his  wife.  He  was  a  weakling. 

The  weakling  smiled  across  the  table  at  the  wife 
with  the  soft  eyes.  "How  about  it,  mother?"  he 
asked.  "Shall  the  firm  of  'Bobby  and  I'  offer  him 
a  job?" 

"I  would  like  it  very  much,"  said  the  weakling's 
wife,  dropping  her  eyes  to  hide  the  pride  in  them. 

"Suppose,"  said  the  weakling,  "that  you  run  up 
after  dinner,  Bob,  and  bring  him  down.  Now  sit 
still,  young  man,  and  finish.  There's  no  such  hurry 
as  that." 

And  in  this  fashion  did  old  Adelbert  become 
ticket-chopper  of  the  American  Scenic  Railway. 

And  in  this  fashion,  too,  commenced  that  odd 
friendship  between  him  and  the  American  lad  that 
was  to  have  so  vital  an  effect  on  the  very  life  itself 
of  the  Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  of 
Livonia. 

Late  that  evening,  old  Adelbert's  problem  having 
been  solved,  Pepy  the  maid  and  Bobby  had  a  long 
talk.  It  concerned  itself  mainly  with  kings.  Pepy 
sat  in  a  low  chair  by  the  tiled  stove  in  the  kitchen, 
and  knitted  a  stocking  with  a  very  large  foot. 

"What  I  want  to  know  is  this,"  said  Bobby,  swing 
ing  his  legs  on  the  table:  "What  are  the  Terrorists?  " 

Pepy  dropping  her  knitting,  and  stared  with  open 
mouth.  "What  know  you  of  such  things?  "  she  de 
manded. 


210  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"Well,  Terrorists  killed  the  Crown  Prince's  father, 
and—" 

Quite  suddenly  Pepy  leaped  from  her  chair,  and 
covered  Bobby's  mouth  with  her  hand.  "Hush!  " 
she  said,  and  stared  about  her  with  frightened  eyes. 
The  door  into  the  dining-room  was  open,  and  the 
governess  sat  there  with  a  book.  Then,  in  a  whis 
per:  "They  are  everywhere.  No  one  knows  who 
they  are,  nor  where  they  meet."  The  superstition 
of  her  mountains  crept  into  her  voice.  "It  is  said 
that  they  have  the  assistance  of  the  evil  one,  and 
that  the  reason  the  police  cannot  find  them  is  be 
cause  they  take  the  form  of  cats.  I  myself,"  she 
went  on  impressively,  "crossing  the  Place  one  night 
late,  after  spending  the  evening  with  a  friend,  saw 
a  line  of  cats  moving  in  the  shadows.  One  of  them 
stopped  and  looked  at  me."  Pepy  crossed  herself. 
"It  had  a  face  like  the  Fraulein  in  there." 

Bobby  stared  with  interest  through  the  doorway. 
The  governess  did  look  like  a  cat.  She  had  staring 
eyes,  and  a  short,  wide  face.  " Maybe 's  she's  one 
of  them,"  he  reflected  aloud. 

"Oh,  for  God's  sake,  hush!"  cried  Pepy,  and  fell 
to  knitting  rapidly.  Nor  could  Bobby  elicit  any 
thing  further  from  her.  But  that  night,  in  his  sleep, 
he  saw  a  Crown  Prince,  dressed  in  velvet  and  er 
mine,  being  surrounded  and  attacked  by  an  army 
of  cats,  and  went,  shivering,  to  crawl  into  his  moth 
er's  bed. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  COMMITTEE   OF   TEN 

ON  the  evening  of  the  annual  day  of  mourning,  the 
party  returned  from  the  fortress.  The  Archduchess 
slept.  The  Crown  Prince  talked,  mostly  to  Hedwig, 
and  even  she  said  little.  After  a  time  the  silence 
affected  the  boy's  high  spirits.  He  leaned  back  in 
his  chair  on  the  deck  of  the  launch,  and  watched  the 
flying  landscape.  He  counted  the  riverside  shrines 
to  himself.  There  were,  he  discovered,  just  thirteen 
between  the  fortress  and  the  city  limits. 

Old  Father  Gregory  sat  beside  him.  He  had  taken 
off  his  flat  black  hat,  and  it  lay  on  his  knee.  The 
ends  of  his  black  woolen  sash  fluttered  in  the  wind, 
and  he  sat,  benevolent  hands  folded,  looking  out. 

From  guns  to  shrines  is  rather  a  jump,  and  the 
Crown  Prince  found  it  difficult. 

"Do  you  consider  fighting  the  duty  of  a  Chris 
tian?"  inquired  the  Crown  Prince  suddenly. 

Father  Gregory,  whose  mind  had  been  far  away, 
with  his  boys'  school  at  Etzel,  started. 

"Fighting?  That  depends.  To  defend  his  home 
is  the  Christian  duty  of  every  man." 

"But  during  the  last  war,"  persisted  Otto,  "we 
went  across  the  mountains  and  killed  a  lot  of  peo 
ple.  Was  that  a  Christian  duty?" 


212  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Father  Gregory  coughed.  He  had  himself  tucked 
up  his  soutane  and  walked  forty  miles  to  join  the 
army  of  invasion,  where  he  had  held  services,  cared 
for  the  wounded,  and  fired  a  rifle,  all  with  equal 
spirit.  He  changed  the  subject  to  the  big  guns  at 
the  fortress. 

"I  think,"  observed  the  Crown  Prince,  forgetting 
his  scruples,  "that  if  you  have  a  pencil  and  an  old 
envelope  to  draw  on,  I  '11  invent  a  big  gun  myself." 

Which  he  proceeded  to  do,  putting  in  a  great 
many  wheels  and  levers,  and  adding  a  folding- 
table  at  the  side  on  which  the  gunners  might  have 
afternoon  tea  —  this  last  prompted  by  the  arrival 
just  then  of  cups  and  saucers  and  a  tea  service. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  the  launch  arrived  at  the 
quay.  The  red  carpet  was  still  there,  and  another 
crowd.  Had  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  been 
less  taken  up  with  finding  one  of  his  kid  gloves, 
which  he  had  lost,  he  would  have  noticed  that  there 
was  a  scuffle  going  on  at  the  very  edge  of  the  red 
carpet,  and  that  the  beggar  of  the  morning  was  be 
ing  led  away,  between  two  policemen,  while  a  third, 
running  up  the  river  bank,  gingerly  deposited  a 
small  round  object  in  the  water,  and  stood  back.  It 
was  merely  one  of  the  small  incidents  of  a  royal 
outing,  and  was  never  published  in  the  papers.  But 
Father  Gregory,  whose  old  eyes  were  far-sighted, 
had  seen  it  all.  His  hand  —  the  hand  of  the  Church 
—  was  on  the  shoulder  of  the  Crown  Prince  as  they 
landed. 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  213 

The  boy  looked  around  for  the  little  girl  of  the 
bouquet.  He  took  an  immense  interest  in  little  girls, 
partly  because  he  seldom  saw  any.  But  she  was 
gone. 

When  the  motor  which  had  taken  them  from  the 
quay  reached  the  Palace,  Hedwig  roused  the  Arch 
duchess,  whose  head  had  dropped  forward  on  her 
chest.  "Here  we  are,  mother,"  she  said.  "You  have 
had  a  nice  sleep." 

But  Annunciata  muttered  something  about  being 
glad  the  wretched  day  was  over,  and  every  one  save 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  seemed  glad  to  get 
back.  The  boy  was  depressed.  He  felt,  somehow, 
that  they  should  have  enjoyed  it,  and  that,  having 
merely  endured  it,  they  had  failed  him  again. 

He  kissed  his  aunt's  hand  dutifully  when  he  left 
her,  and  went  with  a  lagging  step  to  his  own  apart 
ments.  His  request  to  have  Hedwig  share  his  sup 
per  had  met  with  a  curt  negative. 

The  Countess,  having  left  her  royal  mistress  in 
the  hands  of  her  maids,  went  also  to  her  own  apart 
ment.  She  was  not  surprised,  on  looking  into  her 
mirror,  to  find  herself  haggard  and  worn.  It  had 
been  a  terrible  day.  Only  a  second  had  separated 
that  gaping  lens  in  her  bag  from  the  eyes  of  the  offi 
cers  about.  Never,  in  an  adventurous  life,  had  she 
felt  so  near  to  death.  Even  now  its  cold  breath 
chilled  her. 

However,  that  was  over,  well  over.  She  had  done 
well,  too.  A  dozen  pictures  of  the  fortress,  of  its 


214  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

guns,  of  even  its  mine  chart  as  it  hung  on  a  wall, 
were  in  the  bag.  Its  secrets,  so  securely  held,  were 
hers,  and  would  be  Karl's. 

It  was  a  cunningly  devised  scheme.  Two  bags, 
exactly  alike  as  to  appearance,  had  been  made. 
One,  which  she  carried  daily,  was  what  it  appeared 
to  be.  The  other  contained  a  camera,  tiny  but  ac 
curate,  with  a  fine  lens.  When  a  knob  of  the  fasten 
ing  was  pressed,  the  watch  slid  aside  and  the  shutter 
snapped.  The  pictures  when  enlarged  had  proved 
themselves  perfect. 

Pleading  fatigue,  she  dismissed  her  maid  and 
locked  the  doors.  Then  she  opened  the  sliding  panel, 
and  unfastened  the  safe.  The  roll  of  film  was  in  her 
hand,  ready  to  be  deposited  under  the  false  bottom 
of  her  jewel-case. 

Within  the  security  of  her  room,  the  Countess  felt 
at  ease.  The  chill  of  the  day  left  her,  to  be  followed 
by  a  glow  of  achievement.  She  even  sang  a  little, 
a  bit  of  a  ballad  from  her  native  mountains:  — 

He  has  gone  to  the  mountains, 
The  far  green  mountains. 

(Hear  the  cattle  lowing  as  they  drive  them  up  the  hill!) 
When  he  conies  down  he  '11  love  me; 
When  he  comes  down  he  '11  marry  me. 

(But  what  is  this  that  touches  me  with  fingers  dead  and  chill?) 

Still  singing,  she  carried  the  jewel-case  to  her 
table,  and  sat  down  before  it.  Then  she  put  a  hand 
to  her  throat. 

The  lock  had  been  forced. 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  215 

A  glance  about  showed  her  that  her  code-book  was 
gone.  In  the  tray  above,  her  jewels  remained  un 
touched  ;  her  pearl  collar,  the  diamond  knickknacks 
the  Archduchess  had  given  her  on  successive  Christ- 
mases,  even  a  handful  of  gold  coins,  all  were  safe 
enough.  But  the  code-book  was  gone. 

Then  indeed  did  the  Countess  look  death  in  the 
face  —  and  found  it  terrible.  For  a  moment  she 
could  not  so  much  as  stand  without  support.  It  was 
then  that  she  saw  a  paper  folded  under  her  jewels 
and  took  it  out  with  shaking  fingers.  In  fine,  copper 
plate  script  she  read :  — 

MADAME,  —  To-night  at  one  o'clock  a  closed  fiacre 
will  await  you  in  the  Street  of  the  Wise  Virgins,  near  the 
church.  You  will  go  in  it,  without  fail,  to  wherever  it 
takes  you. 

(Signed)      THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN 

The  Committee  of  Ten !  This  thing  had  happened 
to  her.  Then  it  was  true  that  the  half-mythical 
Committee  of  Ten  existed,  that  this  terror  of  Livo 
nia  was  a  real  terror,  which  had  her  by  the  throat. 
For  there  was  no  escape.  None.  Now  indeed  she 
knew  that  rumor  spoke  the  truth,  and  that  the  Ter 
rorists  were  everywhere.  In  daylight  they  had  en 
tered  her  room.  They  had  known  of  the  safe, 
known  of  the  code.  Known  how  much  else? 

Wild  ideas  of  flight  crossed  her  mind,  to  be  as 
instantly  abandoned  for  their  futility.  Where  could 
she  go  that  they  would  not  follow  her?  When  she 


216  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

had  reacted  from  her  first  shock  she  fell  to  pondering 
the  matter,  pro  and  con.  What  could  they  want  of 
her?  If  she  was  an  enemy  to  the  country,  so  were 
they.  But  even  that  led  nowhere,  for  after  all,  the 
Terrorists  were  not  enemies  to  Livonia.  They 
claimed  indeed  to  be  its  friends,  to  hold  in  their 
hands  its  future  and  its  betterment.  Enemies  of  the 
royal  house  they  were,  of  course. 

She  was  nearly  distracted  by  that  time.  She  was 
a  brave  woman,  physically  and  mentally  of  hard 
fiber,  but  the  very  name  signed  to  the  paper  set 
her  nerves  to  twitching.  It  was  the  Committee  of 
Ten  which  had  murdered  Prince  Hubert  and  his 
young  wife;  the  Committee  of  Ten  which  had  ex 
ploded  a  bomb  in  the  very  Palace  itself,  and  killed 
old  Breidau,  of  the  King's  Council;  the  Committee 
of  Ten  which  had  burned  the  Government  House, 
and  had  led  the  mob  in  the  student  riots  a  year  or 
so  before. 

Led  them,  themselves  hidden.  For  none  knew 
their  identity.  It  was  said  that  they  did  not  even 
know  each  other,  wearing  masks  and  long  cloaks  at 
their  meetings,  and  being  designated  by  numbers 
only. 

In  this  dread  presence,  then,  she  would  find  her 
self  that  night!  For  she  would  go.  There  was  no 
way  out. 

She  sent  a  request  to  be  excused  from  dinner  on 
the  ground  of  illness,  and  was,  as  a  result,  visited 
by  her  royal  mistress  at  nine  o'clock.  The  honor 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  217 

was  unexpected.  Not  often  did  the  Archduchess 
Annunciata  so  favor  any  one.  The  Countess,  lying 
across  her  bed  in  a  perfect  agony  of  apprehension, 
staggered  into  her  sitting-room  and  knelt  to  kiss  her 
lady's  hand. 

But  the  Archduchess,  who  had  come  to  scoff,  be 
lieving  not  at  all  in  the  illness,  took  one  shrewd 
glance  at  her,  and  put  her  hands  behind  her. 

"It  may  be,  as  you  say,  contagious,  Olga,"  she 
said.  "You  would  better  go  to  bed  and  stay  there. 
I  shall  send  Doctor  Wiederman  to  you." 

When  she  had  gone  the  Countess  rang  for  her 
maid.  She  was  cool  enough  now,  and  white,  with  a 
cruel  line  about  her  mouth  that  Minna  knew  well. 
She  went  to  the  door  into  the  corridor,  and  locked 
it. 

Then  she  turned  on  the  maid.  "I  am  ready  for 
you,  now." 

"Madame  will  retire?" 

"You  little  fool!  You  know  what  I  am  ready 
for!" 

The  maid  stood  still.  Her  wide,  bovine  eyes,  filled 
with  alarm,  watched  the  Countess  as  she  moved 
swiftly  across  the  room  to  her  wardrobe.  When  she 
turned  about  again,  she  held  in  her  hand  a  thin 
black  riding-crop.  Minna's  ruddy  color  faded.  She 
knew  the  Loscheks,  knew  their  furies.  Strange 
stories  of  unbridled  passion  had  oozed  from  the  old 
ruined  castle  where  for  so  long  they  had  held  feudal 
sway  over  the  countryside. 


218  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

"Madame!"  she  cried,  and  fell  on  her  knees. 
"What  have  I  done?  Oh,  what  have  I  done?" 

"That  is  what  you  will  tell  me,"  said  the  Coun 
tess,  and  brought  down  the  crop.  A  livid  stripe 
across  the  girl's  face  turned  slowly  to  red. 

"  I  have  done  nothing,  I  swear  it.  Mother  of  Pity, 
help  me!  I  have  done  nothing." 

The  crop  descended  again,  this  time  on  one  of  the 
great  sleeves  of  her  peasant  costume.  So  thin  it 
was,  so  brutal  the  blow,  that  it  cut  into  the  muslin. 
Groaning,  the  girl  fell  forward  on  her  face.  The 
Countess  continued  to  strike  pitiless  blows  into 
which  she  put  all  her  fury,  her  terror,  her  frayed  and 
ragged  nerves. 

The  girl  on  the  floor,  from  whimpering,  fell  to 
crying  hard,  with  great  noiseless  sobs  of  pain  and 
bewilderment.  When  at  last  the  blows  ceased,  she 
lay  still. 

The  Countess  prodded  her  with  her  foot.  "Get 
up,"  she  commanded. 

But  she  was  startled  when  she  saw  the  girl's  face. 
It  was  she  who  was  the  fool.  The  welt  would  tell 
its  own  story,  and  the  other  servants  would  talk. 
It  was  already  a  deep  purple,  and  swollen.  Both 
women  were  trembling.  The  Countess,  still  holding 
the  crop,  sat  down. 

"  Now! "  she  said.  "You  will  tell  me  to  whom  you 
gave  a  certain  small  book  of  which  you  know." 

"I,  madame?" 

"You." 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  219 

"  But  what  book?  I  have  given  nothing,  madame. 
I  swear  it." 

"Then  you  admitted  some  one  to  this  room?" 

"No  one,  madame,  except — "  She  hesitated. 

"Well?" 

"There  came  this  afternoon  the  men  who  clean 
madame's  windows.  No  one  else,  madame." 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  cheek,  and  looked  fur 
tively  to  see  if  her  fingers  were  stained  with  blood. 
The  Countess,  muttering,  fell  to  furious  pacing  of 
the  room.  So  that  was  it,  of  course.  The  girl  was 
telling  the  truth.  She  was  too  stupid  to  lie.  Then 
the  Committee  of  Ten  indeed  knew  everything  — 
had  known  that  she  would  be  away,  had  known  of 
the  window  cleaners,  had  known  of  the  safe,  and  her 
possession  of  the  code. 

Cold  and  calculating  rage  filled  her.  Niburg  had 
played  her  false,  of  course.  But  Niburg  was  only  a 
go-between.  He  had  known  nothing  of  the  code- 
book.  He  had  given  the  Committee  the  letter,  and 
by  now  they  knew  all  that  it  told.  What  did  it  not 
know? 

She  dismissed  the  girl  and  put  away  the  riding- 
crop,  then  she  smoothed  the  disorder  of  her  hair  and 
dress.  The  court  physician,  calling  a  half  hour 
later,  found  her  reading  on  a  chaise  tongue  in  her 
boudoir,  looking  pale  and  handsome,  and  spent 
what  he  considered  a  pleasant  half-hour  with  her. 
He  loved  gossip,  and  there  was  plenty  just  now. 
Indications  were  that  they  would  have  a  wedding 


220  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

soon.  An  unwilling  bride,  perhaps,  eh?  But  a 
lovely  one.  For  him,  he  was  glad  that  Karnia  was 
to  be  an  ally,  and  not  an  enemy.  He  had  seen 
enough  of  wars.  And  so  on  and  on,  while  the  Coun 
tess  smiled  and  nodded,  and  shivered  in  her  very 
heart. 

At  eleven  o'clock  he  went  away,  kissing  her  hand 
rather  more  fervently  than  professionally,  although 
his  instinct  to  place  his  fingers  over  the  pulse  rather 
spoiled  the  effect.  One  thing,  however,  the  Coun 
tess  had  gained  by  his  visit.  He  was  to  urge  on  the 
Archduchess  the  necessity  for  an  immediate  vaca 
tion  for  her  favorite. 

"Our  loss,  Countess,"  he  said,  with  heavy  gal 
lantry.  "But  we  cannot  allow  beauty  to  languish 
for  need  of  mountain  air." 

Then  at  last  he  was  gone,  and  she  went  about  her 
heavy-hearted  preparations  for  the  night.  From  a 
corner  of  her  wardrobe  she  drew  a  long  peasant's 
cape,  such  a  cape  as  Minna  might  wear.  Over  her 
head,  instead  of  a  hat,  she  threw  a  gray  veil.  A  care 
less  disguise,  but  all  that  was  necessary.  The  sen 
tries  through  and  about  the  Palace  were  not  un 
accustomed  to  such  shrouded  figures  slipping  out 
from  its  gloom  to  light,  and  perhaps  to  love. 

Before  she  left,  she  looked  about  the  room.  What 
assurance  had  she  that  this  very  excursion  was  not 
a  trap,  and  that  in  her  absence  the  vault  would  not 
be  looted  again?  It  contained  now  something  in 
finitely  valuable  —  valuable  and  incriminating  —  the 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  221 

roll  of  film.  She  glanced  about,  and  seeing  a  silver 
vase  of  roses,  hurriedly  emptied  the  water  out, 
wrapped  the  film  in  oiled  paper,  and  dropped  it 
down  among  the  stems. 

The  Street  of  the  Wise  Virgins  was  not  near  the 
Palace.  Even  by  walking  briskly  she  was  in  danger 
of  being  late.  The  wind  kept  her  back,  too.  The 
cloak  twisted  about  her,  the  veil  whipped.  She 
turned  once  or  twice  to  see  if  she  were  being  followed, 
but  the  quiet  streets  were  empty.  Then,  at  last,  the 
Street  of  the  Wise  Virgins  and  the  fiacre,  standing 
at  the  curb,  with  a  driver  wrapped  in  rugs  against 
the  cold  of  the  February  night,  and  his  hat  pulled 
down  over  his  eyes.  The  Countess  stopped  beside 
him. 

"You  are  expecting  a  passenger?" 

"Yes,  madame." 

With  her  hand  on  the  door,  the  Countess  realized 
that  the  fiacre  was  already  occupied.  As  she  peered 
into  its  darkened  interior,  the  shadow  resolved  it 
self  into  a  cloaked  and  masked  figure.  She  shrank 
back. 

"Enter,  madame,"  said  a  voice. 

The  figure  appalled  her.  It  was  not  sufficient  to 
know  that  behind  the  horrifying  mask  which  cov 
ered  the  entire  face  and  head,  there  was  a  human 
figure,  human  pulses  that  beat,  human  eyes  that 
appraised  her.  She  hesitated. 

"Quickly,"  said  the  voice. 

She  got  in,  shrinking  into  a  corner  of  the  carriage. 


222  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Her  lips  were  dry,  the  roaring  of  terror  was  in  her 
ears.  The  door  closed. 

Then  commenced  a  drive  of  which  afterward  the 
Countess  dared  not  think.  The  figure  neither  moved 
nor  spoke.  Inside  the  carriage  reigned  the  most  com 
plete  silence.  The  horse's  feet  clattered  over  rough 
stones,  they  turned  through  narrow,  unfamiliar 
streets,  so  that  she  knew  not  even  the  direction  they 
took.  After  a  time  the  noise  grew  less.  The  horse 
padded  along  dirt  roads,  in  darkness.  Then  the 
carriage  stopped,  and  at  last  the  shrouded  figure 
moved  and  spoke. 

"I  regret,  Countess,  that  my  orders  are  to  blind 
fold  you." 

She  drew  herself  up  haughtily. 

''That  is  not  necessary,  I  think." 

"Very  necessary,  madame." 

She  submitted  ungracefully,  while  he  bound  a 
black  cloth  over  her  eyes.  He  drew  it  very  close  and 
knotted  it  behind.  In  the  act  his  fingers  touched 
her  face,  and  she  felt  them  cold  and  clammy.  The 
contact  sickened  her. 

"Your  hand,  madame." 

She  was  led  out  of  the  carriage,  and  across  soft 
earth,  a  devious  course  again,  as  though  they 
avoided  small  obstacles.  Once  her  foot  touched 
something  low  and  hard,  like  marble.  Again,  in  the 
darkness,  they  stumbled  over  a  mound.  She  knew 
where  she  was,  then  —  in  a  graveyard.  But  which? 
There  were  many  about  the  city. 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  223 

An  open  space,  the  opening  of  a  gate  or  door  that 
squealed  softly,  a  flight  of  steps  that  led  downward, 
and  a  breath  of  musty,  cold  air,  damp  and  cellar- 
like. 

She  was  calmer  now.  Had  they  meant  to  kill  her, 
there  had  been  already  a  hundred  chances.  It  was 
not  death,  then,  that  awaited  her  —  at  least,  not 
immediate  death.  These  precautions,  too,  could 
only  mean  that  she  was  to  be  freed  again,  and  must 
not  know  where  she  had  been. 

At  last,  still  in  unbroken  silence,  she  knew  that 
they  had  entered  a  large  space.  Their  footsteps 
no  longer  echoed  and  re-echoed.  Her  guide  walked 
more  slowly,  and  at  last  paused,  releasing  her  hand. 
She  felt  again  the  touch  of  his  clammy  fingers  as  he 
untied  the  knots  of  her  bandage.  He  took  it  off. 

At  first  she  could  see  little.  The  silence  remained 
unbroken,  and  only  the  center  of  the  room  was 
lighted.  When  her  eyes  grew  accustomed,  she  made 
out  the  scene  slowly. 

A  great  stone  vault,  its  walls  broken  into  crypts 
which  had  contained  caskets  of  the  dead.  But  the 
caskets  had  been  removed,  and  were  piled  in  a  cor 
ner,  and  in  the  niches  were  rifles.  In  the  center  was 
a  pine  table,  curiously  incongruous,  and  on  it  writ 
ing  materials,  a  cheap  clock,  and  a  pile  of  docu 
ments.  There  were  two  candles  only,  and  these 
were  stuck  in  skulls  —  old  brown  skulls  so  infinitely 
removed  from  all  semblance  to  the  human  that 
they  were  not  even  horrible.  It  was  as  if  they  had 


224  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

been  used,  not  to  inspire  terror,  but  because  they 
were  at  hand  and  convenient  for  the  purpose.  In 
the  shadow,  ranged  in  a  semicircle,  were  nine  figures, 
all  motionless,  all  masked,  and  cloaked  in  black. 
They  sat,  another  incongruity,  on  plain  wooden 
chairs.  But  in  spite  of  that  they  were  figures  of 
dread.  The  one  who  had  brought  her  made  the 
tenth.  •• 

Still  the  silence,  broken  only  by  the  drip  of  water 
from  the  ceiling  into  a  tin  pail. 

Had  she  not  known  the  past  record  of  the  men  be 
fore  her,  the  rather  opera  bouffe  setting  with  which 
they  chose  to  surround  themselves  might  have 
aroused  her  scorn.  But  Olga  Loschek  knew  too 
much.  She  guessed  shrewdly  that,  with  the  class  of 
men  with  whom  they  dealt,  it  was  not  enough  that 
their  name  spelled  terror.  They  must  visualize  it. 
They  had  taken  their  cue  from  that  very  church, 
indeed,  beneath  which  they  hid.  The  church,  with 
its  shrines  and  images,  appealed  to  the  eye.  They, 
too,  appealed  to  the  eye.  Their  masks,  the  care 
fully  constructed  and  upheld  mystery  of  their  iden 
tity,  the  trappings  of  death  about  them  —  it  was 
skillfully  done. 

Not  that  she  was  thinking  consecutively  just  then. 
It  was  a  mental  flash,  even  as  her  eyes,  growing  ac 
customed  to  the  darkness  made  out  the  white  nu 
meral,  from  one  to  ten,  on  the  front  of  each  shroud- 
like  cloak. 

Still  no  one  spoke.    The  Countess  faced  them. 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  225 

Only  her  eyes  showed  her  nervousness;  she  stood 
haughtily,  her  head  held  high.  But  like  most 
women,  she  could  not  endure  silence  for  long,  at 
least  the  silence  of  shrouded  figures  and  intent  eyes. 

"Now  that  I  am  here,"  she  demanded,  "may  I 
ask  why  I  have  been  summoned?" 

It  was  Number  Seven  who  replied.  It  was  Num 
ber  Seven  who,  during  the  hour  that  followed,  spoke 
for  the  others.  None  moved,  or  but  slightly.  There 
was  no  putting  together  of  heads,  no  consulting. 
Evidently  all  had  been  carefully  prearranged. 

"Look  on  the  table,  Countess.  You  will  find  there 
some  papers  you  will  perhaps  recognize." 

She  took  a  step  toward  the  table  and  glanced 
down.  The  code-book  lay  there.  Also  the  letter  she 
had  sent  by  Peter  Niburg.  She  made  no  effort  to 
disclaim  them. 

"I  recognize  them,"  she  said  clearly. 

"You  acknowledge,  then,  that  they  are  yours?" 

"I  acknowledge  nothing." 

"They  bear  certain  indications,  madame." 

"Possibly." 

"Do  you  realize  what  will  happen,  madame,  if 
these  papers  are  turned  over  to  the  authorities?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  And  now  Number 
Seven  rose,  a  tall  figure  of  mystery,  and  spoke  at 
length  in  a  cultivated,  softly  intoned  voice.  The 
Countess,  listening,  felt  the  voice  vaguely  familiar, 
as  were  the  burning  eyes  behind  the  mask. 

"It  is  our  hope,  madame,"  he  said,  "that  you 


226  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

will  make  it  unnecessary  for  the  Committee  of  Ten  to 
use  those  papers.  We  have  no  quarrel  with  women. 
We  wish  rather  a  friend  than  an  enemy.  There  be 
those,  many  of  them,  who  call  us  poor  patriots,  who 
would  tear  down  without  building  up.  They  are 
wrong.  The  Committee  of  Ten,  to  those  who  know 
its  motives,  has  the  highest  and  most  loyal  of  ideals 
—  to  the  country." 

His  voice  took  on  a  new,  almost  a  fanatic  note. 
He  spoke  as  well  to  the  other  shrouded  figures  as 
to  his  comrades.  No  mean  orator  this.  He  seldom 
raised  his  voice,  he  made  no  gestures.  Almost,  while 
she  listened,  the  Countess  understood. 

They  had  watched  the  gradual  decay  of  the  coun 
try,  he  said.  Its  burden  of  taxation  grew  greater 
each  year.  The  masses  sweated  and  toiled,  to  carry 
on  their  backs  the  dead  weight  of  the  aristocracy 
and  the  throne.  The  iron  hand  of  the  Chancellor 
held  everything;  an  old  King  who  would  die,  was 
dying  now,  and  after  that  a  boy,  nominal  ruler  only, 
while  the  Chancellor  continued  his  hard  rule.  And 
now,  as  if  that  were  not  enough,  there  was  talk  of 
an  alliance  with  Karnia,  an  alliance  which,  carried 
through,  would  destroy  the  hope  of  a  republic. 

The  Countess  stared. 

"No  wall  is  too  thick  for  our  ears,"  he  contin 
ued.  "Our  eyes  see  everywhere.  And  as  we  grow 
in  strength,  they  fear  us.  Well  they  may." 

He  grew  scornful  then.  To  gain  support  for  the 
tottering  throne  the  Chancellor  would  unite  the 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  227 

two  countries,  that  Karl's  army,  since  he  could  not 
trust  his  own,  might  be  called  on  for  help.  And  here 
he  touched  the  Countess's  raw  nerves  with  a  brutal 
finger. 

"The  price  of  the  alliance,  madame,  is  the  Prin 
cess  Hedwig  in  marriage.  The  Committee,  which 
knows  all  things,  believes  that  you  have  reason  to 
dislike  this  marriage." 

Save  that  she  clutched  her  cloak  more  closely,  the 
Countess  made  no  move.  But  there  was  a  soft  stir 
among  the  figures.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  Commit 
tee  as  a  whole  did  not  know  all  things. 

' '  To  prevent  this  alliance,  madame,  is  our  first  aim. 
There  are  others  to  follow.  But "  —  he  bent  forward 
—  "the  King  will  not  live  many  days.  It  is  our  hope 
that  that  marriage  will  not  occur  before  his  death." 

By  this  time  Olga  Loschek  knew  very  well  where 
she  stood.  The  Committee  was  propitiatory.  She 
was  not  in  danger,  save  as  it  might  develop.  They 
were,  in  a  measure,  putting  their  case. 

She  had  followed  the  speaker  closely.  When  he 
paused,  she  was  ready  for  him.  "But,  even  without 
a  marriage,  at  any  time  now  a  treaty  based  on  the 
marriage  may  be  signed.  A  treaty  for  a  mutually 
defensive  alliance.  Austria  encroaches  daily,  and 
has  Germany  behind  her.  We  are  small  fry,  here 
and  in  Karnia,  and  we  stand  in  the  way." 

"King  Karl  has  broken  faith  before.  He  will  not 
support  Livonia  until  he  has  received  his  price.  He 
is  determined  on  the  marriage." 


228  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"A  marriage  of  expediency,"  said  the  Countess, 
impatiently. 

The  speaker  for  the  Committee  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "Perhaps,"  he  replied.  "Although  there 
are  those  of  us  who  think  that  in  this  matter  of  ex 
pediency,  Karl  gives  more  than  he  receives.  He  is 
to-day  better  prepared  than  we  are  for  war.  He  is 
more  prosperous.  As  to  the  treaty,  it  is  probably 
already  signed,  or  about  to  be.  And  here,  madame,  is 
the  reason  for  our  —  invitation  to  you  to  come  here. 

"I  have  no  access  to  state  papers,"  the  Countess 
said  impatiently. 

"You  are  too  modest,"  said  Number  Seven 
suavely,  and  glanced  at  the  letter  on  the  table. 

"The  matter  lies  thus,  madame.  The  Chancel 
lor  is  now  in  Karnia.  Doubtless  he  will  return  with 
the  agreement  signed.  We  shall  learn  that  in  a  day 
or  so.  We  do  not  approve  of  this  alliance  for  various 
reasons,  and  we  intend  to  take  steps  to  prevent  it. 
The  paper  itself  is  nothing.  But  plainly,  Countess, 
we  need  a  friend  in  the  Palace,  one  who  is  in  the 
confidence  of  the  royal  family." 

"And  for  such  friendship,  I  am  to  secure  safety?" 

"Yes,  madame.  But  that  is  not  all.  Let  me  tell 
you  briefly  how  things  stand  with  us.  We  have, 
supporting  us,  certain  bodies,  workingmen's  guilds, 
a  part  of  the  student  body,  not  so  much  of  the  army 
as  we  would  wish.  Dissatisfied  folk,  madame,  who 
would  exchange  the  emblem  of  tyranny  for  freedom. 
On  the  announcement  of  the  King's  death,  in  every 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  229 

part  of  the  kingdom  will  go  up  the  cry  of  liberty. 
But  the  movement  must  start  here.  The  city  must 
rise  against  the  throne.  And  against  that  there  are  two 
obstacles."  He  paused.  The  clock  ticked,  and  wa 
ter  dripped  into  the  tin  pail  with  metallic  splashes. 
"The  first  is  this  marriage.  The  second  —  is  the 
Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto." 

The  Countess  recoiled.   "No!" 

"A  moment,  madame.  You  think  badly  of  us." 
Under  his  mask  the  Countess  divined  a  cold  smile. 
"  It  is  not  necessary  to  contemplate  violence.  There 
are  other  methods.  The  boy  could  be  taken  over  the 
border,  and  hidden  until  the  Republic  is  firmly  es 
tablished.  After  that,  he  is  unimportant." 

The  Countess,  still  pale,  looked  at  him  scornfully. 
"You  do  my  intelligence  small  honor." 

"Where  peaceful  methods  will  avail,  our  methods 
are  peaceful,  madame." 

"It  was,  then,  in  peace  that  you  murdered  Prince 
Hubert?" 

"The  errors  of  the  past  are  past."  Then,  with  a 
new  sternness : ' '  Make  no  mistake.  Whether  through 
your  agency  or  another,  Countess,  when  the  Cathe 
dral  bell  rouses  the  city  to  the  King's  death,  and  the 
people  wait  in  the  Place  for  their  new  King  to  come 
out  on  the  balcony,  he  will  not  come." 

The  Countess  was  not  entirely  bad.  Standing 
swaying  and  white-faced  before  the  tribunal,  she 
saw  suddenly  the  golden  head  of  the  little  Crown 
Prince,  saw  him  smiling  as  he  had  smiled  that  day 


230  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

in  the  sunlight,  saw  him  troubled  and  forlorn  as  he 
had  been  when,  that  very  evening,  he  had  left  them 
to  go  to  his  lonely  rooms.  Perhaps  she  reached  the 
biggest  moment  of  her  life  then,  when  she  folded 
her  arms  and  stared  proudly  at  the  shrouded  figures 
before  her. 

"I  will  not  do  it,"  she  said. 

Then  indeed  the  tribunal  stirred,  and  sat  forward. 
Perhaps  never  before  had  it  been  defied. 

"I  will  not,"  repeated  the  Countess. 

But  Number  Seven  remained  impassive.  "A  new 
idea,  Countess!"  he  said  suavely.  "I  can  under 
stand  that  your  heart  recoils.  But  this  thing  is  in 
evitable,  as  I  have  said.  Whether  you  or  another  — 
but  perhaps  with  time  to  think  you  may  come  to 
another  conclusion.  We  make  no  threats.  Our  posi 
tion  is,  however,  one  of  responsibility.  We  are  com 
pelled  to  place  the  future  of  the  Republic  before 
every  other  consideration." 

"That  is  a  threat." 

"We  remember  both  our  friends  and  our  enemies, 
madame.  And  we  have  only  friends  and  enemies. 
There  is  no  middle  course.  If  you  would  like  time 
to  think  it  over  —  " 

"How  much  time?"  She  clutched  at  the  words. 

With  time  all  things  were  possible.  The  King 
might  die  soon,  that  night,  the  next  day.  Better 
than  any  one,  save  his  daughter  Annunciata  and 
the  physicians,  she  knew  his  condition.  The  Rev 
olutionists  might  boast,  but  they  were  not  all  the 


THE  COMMITTEE  OF  TEN  231 

people.  Once  let  the  boy  be  crowned,  and  it  would 
take  mere  than  these  posing  plotters  in  their  theat 
rical  setting  to  overthrow  him. 

"How  much  time  may  I  have?" 

"Women  vary,"  said  Number  Seven  mockingly. 
"Some  determine  quickly.  Others — ' 

"May  I  have  a  month?" 

"During  which  the  King  may  die!  Alas,  ma- 
dame,  it  is  now  you  who  do  us  too  little  honor!" 

"A  week?"  begged  the  Countess  desperately. 

The  leader  glanced  along  the  line.  One  head  after 
another  nodded  slowly. 

"A  week  it  is,  madame.   Comrade  Five!" 

The  one  who  had  brought  her  came  forward  with 
the  bandage. 

"At  the  end  of  one  week,  madame,  a  fiacre  will, 
as  to-night,  be  waiting  in  the  Street  of  the  Wise  Vir 
gins." 

"And  these  papers?" 

"On  the  day  the  Republic  of  Livonia  is  estab 
lished,  madame,  they  will  be  returned  to  you." 

He  bowed,  and  returned  to  his  chair.  Save  for  the 
movements  of  the  man  who  placed  the  bandage  over 
her  eyes,  there  was  absolute  silence  in  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   DELEGATION 

PRINCE  FERDINAND  WILLIAM  OTTO  was  supremely 
happy.  Three  quite  delightful  things  had  happened. 
First,  Nikky  had  returned.  He  said  he  felt  per 
fectly  well,  but  the  Crown  Prince  thought  he  looked 
as  though  he  had  been  ill,  and  glanced  frequently 
at  Nikky's  cigarette  during  the  riding-hour.  Sec 
ond,  Hedwig  did  not  come  to  the  riding-lesson, 
and  he  had  Nikky  to  himself.  Third,  he,  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto,  was  on  the  eve  of  a  birth 
day. 

This  last,  however,  was  not  unmixed  happiness. 
For  the  one  day  the  sentence  of  exile  was  to  be  re 
moved  so  that  he  might  lunch  with  the  King,  and 
he  was  to  have  strawberry  jam  with  his  tea,  some 
that  Miss  Braithwaite's  sister  had  sent  from  Eng 
land.  But  to  offset  all  this,  he  was  to  receive  a  dele 
gation  of  citizens. 

He  had  been  well  drilled  for  it.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  on  the  morning  of  Nikky's  return,  they  took  a 
few  minutes  to  go  over  the  ceremony,  Nikky  being 
the  delegation.  The  way  they  did  it  was  simple. 

Nikky  went  out  into  the  corridor,  and  became 
the  Chamberlain.  He  stepped  inside,  bowed,  and 
announced:  "The  delegation  from  the  city,  High- 


THE  DELEGATION  233 

ness,"  standing  very  stiff,  and  a  trifle  bowlegged,  as 
the  Chamberlain  was.  Then  he  bowed  again,  and 
waddled  out  —  the  Chamberlain  was  fat  —  and 
became  the  delegation. 

This  time  he  tried  to  look  like  a  number  of  peo 
ple,  and  was  not  so  successful.  But  he  looked  nerv 
ous,  as  delegations  always  do  when  they  visit  a 
Royal  Highness.  He  bowed  inside  the  door,  and 
then  came  forward  and  bowed  again. 

"  I  am,  of  course,  standing  in  a  row,"  said  Nikky, 
sotto  wee.  "Now,  what  comes  next?" 

"I  am  to  shake  hands  with  every  one." 

So  they  shook  hands  nine  times,  because  there 
were  to  be  nine  members  of  the  delegation.  And 
Nikky  picked  up  a  brass  inkwell  from  the  desk  and 
held  it  out  before  him. 

"Your  Highness,"  he  said,  after  clearing  his 
throat,  for  all  the  world  as  Prince  Ferdinand  Wil 
liam  Otto  had  heard  it  done  frequently  at  corner 
stones  and  openings  of  hospitals,  "Your  Highness 
—  we  are  here  to-day  to  felicitate  Your  Highness  on 
reaching  the  mature  age  of  ten.  In  testimonial  of 
our  —  our  affection  and  —  er  —  loyalty,  we  bring 
to  you  a  casket  of  gold,  containing  the  congratula 
tions  of  the  city,  which  we  beg  that  Your  Highness 
may  see  fit  to  accept.  It  will  be  of  no  earthly  use  to 
you,  and  will  have  to  be  stuck  away  in  a  vault  and 
locked  up.  But  it  is  the  custom  on  these  occasions, 
and  far  be  it  from  us  to  give  you  a  decent  present 
that  you  can  use  or  enjoy!" 


234  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  to  cover  his 
mouth  with  his  hand  to  preserve  the  necessary  dig 
nity.  He  stepped  forward  and  took  the  ink-well.  "  I 
thank  you  very  much.  Please  give  my  thanks  to  all 
the  people.  I  am  very  grateful.  It  is  beautiful. 
Thank  you." 

Whereupon  he  placed  the  ink-well  on  the  desk, 
and  he  and  Nikky  again  shook  hands  nine  times, 
counting,  to  be  sure  it  was  right.  Then  Nikky 
backed  to  the  door,  getting  all  tangled  up  in  his 
sword,  bowed  again  and  retired. 

When  he  reentered,  the  boy's  face  was  glowing. 

"Gee!"  he  said,  remembering  this  favorite  word 
of  the  American  boy's.  ''It's  splendid  to  have  you 
back  again,  Nikky.  You're  going  to  stay  now, 
are  n't  you?" 

"I  am."   Nikky's  voice  was  fervent. 

"Where  did  you  go  when  you  went  away?" 

"I  took  a  short  and  foolish  excursion,  Highness. 
You  see,  while  I  look  grown-up  I  dare  say  I  am 
really  not.  Not  quite,  anyhow.  And  now  and  then, 
like  other  small  boys  I  have  heard  of,  I  —  well,  I  run 
away.  And  am  sorry  afterward,  of  course." 

Miss  Braithwaite  was  not  in  the  study.  The 
Prince  looked  about,  and  drew  close  to  Nikky. 
"Did  you,  really?" 

"I  did.  Some  day,  when  you  are  older,  I'll  tell 
you  about  it.  I  —  has  the  Princess  Hedwig  been 
having  tea  with  you,  as  usual?" 

Carelessly  spoken  as  it  was,  there  was  a  change 


THE  DELEGATION  235 

in  Nikky's  voice.  And  the  Crown  Prince  was  sensi 
tive  to  voices.  Something  similar  happened  to  Mon 
sieur  Puaux,  the  French  tutor,  when  he  mentioned 
Hedwig. 

"Not  yesterday.  We  went  to  the  fortress.  Nikky, 
what  is  it  to  be  in  love?" 

Nikky  looked  startled.  "Well,"  he  said  reflec 
tively,  "it's  to  like  some  one,  a  lady  in  your  case  or 
mine,  of  course;  to  —  to  like  them  very  much,  and 
want  to  see  them  often." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"It's  enough,  sometimes.  But  it's  more  than 
that.  It's  being  dreadfully  unhappy  if  the  other 
person  is  n't  around,  for  one  thing.  It  is  n't  really 
a  rational  condition.  People  in  love  do  mad  things 
quite  often." 

"I  know  some  one  who  is  in  love  with  Hedwig." 

Nikky  looked  extremely  conscious.  There  was, 
too,  something  the  Crown  Prince  was  too  small  to 
see,  something  bitter  and  hard  in  his  eyes.  "Prob 
ably  a  great  many  are,"  he  said.  "But  I 'm  not  sure 
she  would  care  to  have  us  discuss  it." 

"It  is  my  French  tutor." 

Nikky  laughed  suddenly,  and  flung  the  boy  to 
his  shoulder.  "Of  course  he  is!"  he  cried  gayly. 
"And  you  are,  and  the  Chancellor.  And  I  am,  of 
course."  He  stood  the  boy  on  the  desk. 

"  Do  you  think  she  is  in  love  with  you  ?  "demanded 
the  Crown  Prince,  very  seriously. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  young  man!" 


236  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

" But  I  think  she  is,"  he  persisted.  "She's  always 
around  when  you  are." 

"Not  this  morning." 

"But  she  is,  when  she  can  be.  She  never  used  to 
take  riding-lessons.  She  does  n't  need  them."  This 
was  a  grievance,  but  he  passed  it  over.  "And  she 
always  asks  where  you  are.  And  yesterday,  when 
you  were  away,  she  looked  very  sad." 

Nikky  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder, 
and  stared  out  through  the  window.  If  it  were  so, 
if  this  child,  with  his  uncanny  sensitiveness,  had  hit 
on  the  truth!  If  Hedwig  felt  even  a  fraction  of 
what  he  felt,  what  a  tragedy  it  all  was! 

He  forced  himself  to  smile,  however.  "  If  she  only 
likes  me  just  a  little,"  he  said  lightly,  "it  is  more 
than  I  dare  to  hope,  or  deserve.  Come,  now,  we 
have  spent  too  much  time  over  love  and  delega 
tions.  Suppose  we  go  and  ride." 

But  on  the  way  across  the  Place  Prince  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto  resumed  the  subject  for  a  mo 
ment.  "  If  you  would  marry  Hedwig,"  he  suggested, 
an  anxious  thrill  in  his  voice,  "you  would  live  at  the 
Palace  always,  would  n't  you?  And  never  have  to 
go  back  to  your  regiment?"  For  the  bugaboo  of 
losing  Nikky  to  his  regiment  was  always  in  the  back 
of  his  small  head. 

"Now,  listen,  Otto,  and  remember,"  said  Nikky, 
almost  sternly.  "It  may  be  difficult  for  you  to  under 
stand  now,  but  some  day  you  will.  The  granddaughter 
of  the  King  must  marry  some  one  of  her  own  rank. 


THE  DELEGATION  237 

No  matter  how  hard  you  and  I  may  wish  things  to  be 
different,  we  cannot  change  that.  And  it  would  be 
much  better  never  to  mention  this  conversation  to 
your  cousin.  Girls,"  said  Nikky,  "are  peculiar." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Crown  Prince  humbly.  But 
he  made  careful  note  of  one  thing,  He  was  not  to 
talk  of  this  plan  to  Hedwig,  but  there  was  no  other 
restriction.  He  could,  for  instance,  take  it  up  with 
the  Chancellor,  or  even  with  the  King  to-morrow, 
if  he  was  in  an  approachable  humor. 

Hedwig  was  not  at  the  riding-school.  This  re 
lieved  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  whose  views 
as  to  Nikky  were  entirely  selfish,  but  Nikky  him 
self  had  unaccountably  lost  his  high  spirits  of  the 
morning.  He  played,  of  course,  as  he  always  did. 
And  even  taught  the  Crown  Prince  how  to  hang  over 
the  edge  of  his  saddle,  while  his  horse  was  can 
tering,  so  that  bullets  would  not  strike  him. 

They  rode  and  frolicked,  yelled  a  bit,  got  two 
ponies  and  whacked  a  polo  ball  over  the  tan-bark, 
until  the  Crown  Prince  was  sweating  royally  and 
was  gloriously  flushed. 

"I  don't  know  when  I  have  been  so  happy,"  he 
said,  dragging  out  his  handkerchief  and  mopping 
his  face.  "  It's  a  great  deal  pleasanter  without  Hed 
wig,  is  n't  it?" 

While  they  played,  overhead  the  great  hearse  was 
ready  at  last.  Its  woodwork  shone.  Its  gold  crosses 
gleamed.  No  fleck  of  dust  disturbed  its  austere 
magnificence. 


238  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

The  man  and  the  boy  who  had  been  working 
on  it  stood  back  and  surveyed  it. 

"All  ready,"  said  the  man,  leaning  on  the  handle 
of  his  long  brush.  "Now  it  may  happen  any  time." 

"It  is  very  handsome.  But  I  am  glad  I  am  not 
the  old  King."  The  boy  picked  up  pails  and  brushes. 
"Nothing  to  look  forward  to  but  —  that." 

"But  much  to  look  back  on,"  the  man  observed 
grimly,  "and  little  that  is  good." 

The  boy  glanced  through  a  window,  below  which 
the  riding-ring  stretched  its  brown  surface,  scarred 
by  nervous  hoofs.  "I  would  change  places  with  the 
Crown  Prince,"  he  said  enviously.  "Listen  to  him! 
Always  laughing.  Never  to  labor,  nor  worry,  nor 
think  of  the  next  day's  food  — " 

"Young  fool!"  The  man  came  to  his  shoulder 
and  glanced  down  also.  "Would  like  to  be  a  prince 
ling,  then!  No  worry.  No  trouble.  Always  play, 
play!"  He  gripped  the  boy's  shoulder.  "Look, 
lad,  at  the  windows  about.  That  is  what  it  is  to 
be  a  prince.  Wherever  you  look,  what  do  you  see? 
Stablemen?  Grooms?  Bah,  secret  agents,  watch 
ing  that  no  assassin,  such  perhaps  as  you  and  I,  lurk 
about." 

The  boy  opened  wide,  incredulous  eyes.  "But 
who  would  attack  a  child?"  he  asked. 

"There  be  those,  nevertheless,"  said  the  man 
mockingly.  "Even  a  child  may  stand  in  the  way  of 
great  changes." 

He  stopped  and  stared,  wiping  the  glass  clear  that 


THE  DELEGATION  239 

he  might  see  better.  Nikky  without  his  cap,  dis 
heveled  and  flushed  with  exertion,  was  making  a 
frantic  shot  at  the  white  ball,  rolling  past  him. 
Where  had  he  seen  such  a  head,  such  a  flying  mop 
of  hair?  Ah!  He  remembered.  It  was  the  flying 
young  devil  who  had  attacked  him  and  the  others 
that  night  in  the  by-street,  when  Peter  Niburg  lay 
stunned ! 

Miss  Braithwaite  had  a  bad  headache  that  after 
noon,  and  the  Crown  Prince  drove  out  with  his  aunt. 
The  Archduchess  Annunciata  went  shopping.  Soon 
enough  she  would  have  Hedwig's  trousseau  on  her 
mind,  so  that  day  she  bought  for  Hilda  —  Hilda, 
whose  long  legs  had  a  way  of  growing  out  of  skirts, 
and  who  was  developing  a  taste  of  her  own  in 
clothes. 

So  Hilda  and  her  mother  shopped  endlessly,  and 
the  Crown  Prince  sat  in  the  carriage  and  watched 
the  people.  The  man  beside  the  coachman  sat  with 
alert  eyes,  and  there  were  others  who  scanned  the 
crowd  intently.  But  it  was  a  quiet,  almost  an  ador 
ing  crowd,  and  there  was  even  a  dog,  to  Prince  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto's  huge  delight. 

The  man  who  owned  the  dog,  seeing  the  child's 
eyes  on  him,  put  him  through  his  tricks.  Truly  a 
wonderful  dog,  that  would  catch  things  on  its  nose 
and  lie  dead,  rousing  only  to  a  whistle  which  its 
owner  called  Gabriel's  trumpet. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  growing  excited, 


240  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

leaned  quite  out  of  the  window.  "What  is  your 
dog's  name?"  he  inquired,  in  his  clear  treble. 

The  man  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed.  "Toto, 
Highness.  He  is  of  French  origin." 

"He  is  a  very  nice  dog.  I  have  always  wanted  a 
dog  like  that.  He  must  be  a  great  friend." 

"A  great  friend,  Highness."  He  would  have  ex 
patiated  on  the  dog,  but  he  was  uncertain  of  the 
etiquette  of  the  procedure.  His  face  beamed  with 
pleasure,  however.  Then  a  splendid  impulse  came 
to  him.  This  dog,  his  boon  companion,  he  would 
present  to  the  Crown  Prince.  It  was  all  he  had,  and 
he  would  give  it,  freely,  even  though  it  left  him 
friendless. 

But  here  again  he  was  at  a  loss.  Was  it  the  proper 
thing?  Did  one  do  such  things  in  this  fashion,  or  was 
there  a  procedure?  He  cocked  an  eye  at  the  box  of 
the  carriage,  but  the  two  men  sat  impressive,  im 
mobile. 

Finally  he  made  up  his  mind.  Hat  in  hand,  he 
stepped  forward.  "Highness,"  he  said  nervously, 
"  since  the  dog  pleases  you,  I  —  I  would  present  him 
to  you." 

"To  me?"  The  Crown  Prince's  voice  was  full  of 
incredulous  joy. 

"Yes,  Highness.    If  such  a  thing  be  permissible." 

"Are  you  sure  you  don't  mind?" 

"He  is  the  best  I  have,  Highness.  I  wish  to  offer 
my  best." 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  almost  choked 


THE  DELEGATION  241 

with  excitement.  "I  have  always  wanted  one,"  he 
cried.  "If  you  are  certain  you  can  spare  him,  I'll 
be  very  good  to  him.  No  one,"  he  said,  "ever  gave 
me  a  dog  before.  I'd  like  to  have  him  now,  if  I 
may." 

The  crowd  was  growing.  It  pressed  closer,  pleased 
at  the  boy's  delight.  Truly  they  were  participating 
in  great  things.  A  small  cheer  and  many  smiles  fol 
lowed  the  lifting  of  the  dog  through  the  open  window 
of  the  carriage.  And  the  dog  was  surely  a  dog  to  be 
proud  of.  Already  it  shook  hands  with  the  Crown 
Prince. 

Perhaps,  in  that  motley  gathering,  there  were 
some  who  viewed  the  scene  with  hostile  eyes,  some 
who  saw,  not  a  child  glowing  with  delight  over  a  gift, 
but  one  of  the  hated  ruling  family,  a  barrier,  an 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  freedom.  But  if  such  there 
were,  they  were  few.  It  was,  indeed,  as  the  Terror 
ists  feared.  The  city  loved  the  boy. 

Annunciata,  followed  by  an  irritated  Hilda,  came 
out  of  the  shop.  Hilda's  wardrobe  had  been  pur 
chased,  and  was  not  to  her  taste. 

The  crowd  opened,  hats  were  doffed,  backs  bent. 
The  Archduchess  moved  haughtily,  looking  neither 
to  the  right  nor  left.  Her  coming  brought  no  enthu 
siasm.  Perhaps  the  curious  imagination  of  the  mob 
found  her  disappointing.  She  did  not  look  like  an 
Archduchess.  She  looked,  indeed,  like  an  unamiable 
spinster  of  the  middle  class.  Hilda,  too,  was  shy  and 
shrinking,  and  wore  an  unbecoming  hat.  Of  the 


242  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

three,  only  the  Crown  Prince  looked  royal  and  as  he 
should  have  looked. 

"Good  Heavens,"  cried  the  Archduchess,  and 
stared  into  the  carriage.  "Otto!" 

"  He  is  mine,"  said  the  Crown  Prince  fondly.  "  He 
is  the  cleverest  dog.  He  can  do  all  sorts  of  things." 

"Put  him  out." 

"But  he  is  mine,"  protested  Ferdinand  William 
Otto.  "He  is  a  gift.  That  gentleman  there,  in  the 
corduroy  jacket  — " 

"  Put  him  out,"  said  the  Archduchess  Annunciata. 

There  was  nothing  else  to  do.  The  Crown  Prince 
did  not  cry.  He  was  much  too  proud.  He  thanked 
the  donor  again  carefully,  and  regretted  that  he 
could  not  accept  the  dog.  He  said  it  was  a  wonderful 
dog,  and  just  the  sort  he  liked.  And  the  carriage 
drove  away. 

He  went  back  to  the  Palace,  and  rinding  that  the 
governess  still  had  a  headache,  settled  down  to  the 
burnt-wood  frame.  Once  he  glanced  up  at  the 
woolen  dog  on  its  shelf  at  the  top  of  the  cabinet. 
"  Well,  anyhow,"  he  said  sturdily,  "  I  still  have 
you." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AS  A  MAN  MAY  LOVE  A   WOMAN 

H  ED  WIG  came  to  tea  that  afternoon.  She  came  in 
softly,  and  defiantly,  for  she  was  doing  a  forbidden 
thing,  but  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  put 
away  the  frame  against  such  a  contingency.  He 
had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  been  putting  cold  cloths  on 
Miss  Braithwaite's  forehead. 

"I  always  do  it,"  he  informed  Hedwig.  "I  like 
doing  it.  It  gives  me  something  to  do.  She  likes 
them  rather  dry,  so  the  water  does  n't  run  down  her 
neck." 

Hedwig  made  a  short  call  on  the  governess,  pros 
trate  on  the  couch  in  her  sitting-room.  The  infor 
mality  of  the  family  relationship  had,  during  her 
long  service,  been  extended  to  include  the  English 
woman,  who  in  her  turn  found  nothing  incongruous 
in  the  small  and  kindly  services  of  the  little  Prince. 
So  Hedwig  sat  beside  her  for  a  moment,  and  turned 
the  cold  bandage  over  to  freshen  it. 

Had  Miss  Braithwaite  not  been  ill,  Hedwig  would 
have  talked  things  over  with  her  then.  There  was 
no  one  else  to  whom  she  could  go.  Hilda  refused  to 
consider  the  prospect  of  marriage  as  anything  but 
pleasurable,  and  between  her  mother  and  Hedwig 
there  had  never  been  any  close  relationship. 


244  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

But  Miss  Braithwaite  lay  motionless,  her  face  set 
in  lines  of  suffering,  and  after  a  time  Hedwig  rose 
and  tiptoed  out  of  the  room. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  excited.  Tea 
had  already  come,  and  on  the  rare  occasions  when 
the  governess  was  ill,  it  was  his  privilege  to  pour  the 
tea. 

"Nikky  is  coming,"  he  said  rapidly,  ''and  the 
three  of  us  will  have  a  party.  Please  don't  tell  me 
how  you  like  your  tea,  and  see  if  I  can  remember." 

"Very  well,  dear,"  Hedwig  said  gently,  and  went 
to  the  window. 

Behind  her  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was 
in  a  bustle  of  preparation.  Tea  in  the  study  was  an 
informal  function,  served  in  the  English  manner, 
without  servants  to  bother.  The  Crown  Prince  drew 
up  a  chair  before  the  tea  service,  and  put  a  cushion 
on  it.  He  made  a  final  excursion  to  Miss  Braithwaite 
and,  returning,  climbed  on  to  his  chair. 

"Now,  when  Nikky  comes,  we  are  all  ready,"  he 
observed. 

Nikky  entered  almost  immediately. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  although  he  showed  no  trace 
of  it,  Nikky  had  been  having  an  extremely  bad  time 
since  his  return;  the  Chancellor,  who  may  or  may 
not  have  known  that  his  heart  was  breaking,  had 
given  him  a  very  severe  scolding  on  the  way  back 
from  Wedeling.  It  did  Nikky  good,  too,  for  it  roused 
him  to  his  own  defense,  and  made  him  forget,  for  a 
few  minutes  anyhow,  that  life  was  over  for  him,  and 


AS  A  MAN  MAY  LOVE  A  WOMAN      245 

that  the  Chancellor  carried  his  death  sentence  in  his 
old  leather  dispatch  case. 

After  that,  arriving  in  the  capital,  they  had  driven 
to  the  little  office  in  a  back  street,  and  there  Nikky 
had  roused  himself  again  enough  to  give  a  descrip 
tion  of  Peter  Niburg,  and  to  give  the  location  of 
the  house  where  he  lived.  But  he  slumped  again 
after  that,  ate  no  dinner,  and  spent  a  longish  time 
in  the  Place,  staring  up  at  Annunciata's  windows, 
where  he  had  once  seen  Hedwig  on  the  balcony. 

But  of  course  Hedwig  had  not  learned  of  his  re 
turn,  and  was  sitting  inside,  exactly  as  despairing 
as  he  was,  but  obliged  to  converse  with  her  mother 
in  the  absence  of  the  Countess.  The  Archduchess 
insisted  on  talking  French,  for  practice,  and  they 
got  into  quite  a  wrangle  over  a  verb.  And  as  if  to 
add  to  the  general  depression,  Hilda  had  been  re 
minded  of  what  anniversary  it  was,  and  was  told  to 
play  hymns  only.  True,  now  and  then,  hearing  her 
mother  occupied,  she  played  them  in  dotted  time, 
which  was  a  bit  more  cheerful. 

Then,  late  in  the  evening,  Nikky  was  summoned 
to  the  King's  bedroom,  and  came  out  pale,  with  his 
shoulders  very  square.  He  had  received  a  real  wig 
ging  this  time,  and  even  contemplated  throwing 
himself  in  the  river.  Only  he  could  swim  so  dam 
nably  well ! 

But  he  had  the  natural  elasticity  of  youth,  and  a 
sort  of  persistent  belief  in  his  own  luck,  rather  like 
the  Chancellor's  confidence  in  seven  as  a  number  — 


246  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

a  confidence,  by  the  way,  which  the  Countess  could 
easily  have  shaken.  So  he  had  wakened  the  next 
morning  rather  cheerful  than  otherwise,  and  over  a 
breakfast  of  broiled  ham  had  refused  to  look  ahead 
farther  than  the  day. 

That  afternoon,  in  the  study,  Nikky  hesitated 
when  he  saw  Hedwig.  Then  he  came  and  bent  low 
over  her  hand.  And  Hedwig,  because  every  instinct 
yearned  to  touch  his  shining,  bent  head,  spoke  to 
him  very  calmly,  was  rather  distant,  a  little  cold. 
i  "You  have  been  away,  I  think?"  she  said. 

"For  a  day  or  two,  Highness." 

The  Crown  Prince  put  a  small  napkin  around  the 
handle  of  the  silver  teapot.  He  knew  from  experi 
ence  that  it  was  very  hot.  His  face  was  quite  screwed 
up  with  exertion. 

"And  to-day,"  said  Nikky  reproachfully,  "to-day 
you  did  not  ride." 

"I  did  not  feel  like  riding,"  Hedwig  responded 
listlessly.  "I  am  tired.  I  think  I  am  always  tired." 

"Lemon  and  two  lumps,"  muttered  the  Crown 
Prince.  "That's  Nikky's,  Hedwig.  Give  it  to  him, 
please." 

Nikky  went  a  trifle  pale  as  their  fingers  touched. 
But  he  tasted  his  tea,  and  pronounced  it  excel 
lent. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  chattered  excit 
edly.  He  told  of  the  dog,  dilating  on  its  cleverness, 
but  passing  politely  over  the  manner  of  its  return. 
Now  and  then  Hedwig  glanced  at  Nikky,  when  he 


AS  A  MAN  MAY  LOVE  A  WOMAN      247 

was  not  looking,  and  always,  when  they  dared,  the 
young  soldier's  eyes  were  on  her. 

"She  will  take  some  tea  without  sugar,"  an 
nounced  the  Crown  Prince. 

While  he  poured  it,  Hedwig  was  thinking.  Was  it 
possible  that  Nikky,  of  every  one,  should  have  been 
chosen  to  carry  to  Karl  the  marriage  arrangements? 
What  an  irony!  What  a  jest!  It  was  true  there  was 
a  change  in  him.  He  looked  subdued,  almost  sad. 

"To  Karnia?"  she  asked,  when  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  had  again  left  the  room.  "Officially?" 

"Not  — exactly." 

"Where,  in  Karnia?" 

"I  ended,"  Nikky  confessed,  "at  Wedeling." 

Hedwig  gazed  at  him,  her  elbows  propped  on  the 
tea-table.  "Then,"  she  said,  "I  think  you  know." 

"I  know,  Highness." 

"And  you  have  nothing  to  say?" 

Nikky  looked  at  her  with  desperate  eyes.  "What 
can  I  say,  Highness?  Only  that  —  it  is  very  terrible 
to  me — that  I  —  "  He  rose  abruptly  and  stood  look 
ing  down  at  her. 

"That  you  — "  said  Hedwig  softly. 

"Highness,"  Nikky  began  huskily,  "you  know 
what  I  would  say.  And  that  I  cannot.  To  take  ad 
vantage  of  Otto's  fancy  for  me,  a  child's  liking,  to 
violate  the  confidence  of  those  who  placed  me  here 
—  I  am  doing  that,  every  moment." 

"What  about  me?"  Hedwig  asked.  "Do  I  count 
for  nothing?  Does  it  not  matter  at  all  how  I  feel, 


248  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

whether  I  am  happy  or  wretched?  Isn't  that  as 
important  as  honor?" 

Nikky  flung  out  his  hands.  "You  know,"  he  said 
rapidly.  "What  can  I  tell  you  that  you  do  not  know 
a  thousand  times?  I  love  you.  Not  as  a  subject 
may  adore  his  princess,  but  as  a  man  loves  a 
woman." 

"I  too!"  said  Hedwig.  And  held  out  her  hands. 

But  he  did  not  take  them.  Almost  it  was  as 
though  he  would  protect  her  from  herself.  But  he 
closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  that  he  might  not  see 
that  appealing  gesture.  "I,  who  love  you  more  than 
life,  who  would,  God  help  me,  forfeit  eternity  for 
you —  I  dare  not  take  you  in  my  arms." 

Hed  wig's  arms  fell.  She  drew  herself  up.  "Love!" 
she  said.  "  I  do  not  call  that  love." 

"It  is  greater  love  than  you  know,"  said  poor 
Nikky.  But  all  his  courage  died  a  moment  later, 
and  his  resolution  with  it,  for  without  warning  Hed 
wig  dropped  her  head  on  her  hands  and,  crouching 
forlornly,  fell  to  sobbing. 

"I  counted  on  you,"  she  said  wildly.  "And  you 
are  like  the  others.  No  one  cares  how  wretched  I 
am.  I  wish  I  might  die." 

Then  indeed  Nikky  was  lost.  In  an  instant  he  was 
on  his  knees  beside  her,  his  arms  close  about  her,  his 
head  bowed  against  her  breast.  And  Hedwig  re 
laxed  to  his  embrace.  When  at  last  he  turned  and 
looked  up  at  her,  it  was  Hedwig  who  bent  and  kissed 
him. 


AS  A  MAN  MAY  LOVE  A  WOMAN      249 

"At  least,"  she  whispered,  "we  have  had  this. 
We  can  always  remember,  whatever  comes,  that  we 
have  had  this." 

But  Nikky  was  of  very  human  stuff,  and  not  the 
sort  that  may  live  by  memories.  He  was  very  hag 
gard  when  he  rose  to  his  feet  —  haggard,  and  his 
mouth  was  doggedly  set.  "I  will  never  give  you  up, 
now,"  he  said. 

Brave  words,  of  course.  But  as  he  said  them  he 
realized  their  futility.  The  eyes  he  turned  on  her 
were,  as  he  claimed  her,  without  hope.  For  there 
was  no  escape.  He  had  given  his  word  to  stay  near 
the  Crown  Prince,  always  to  watch  him,  to  guard 
him  with  his  life,  if  necessary.  And  he  had  prom 
ised,  at  least,  not  to  block  the  plans  for  the  new 
alliance. 

Hedwig,  with  shining  eyes,  was  already  planning. 

"We  will  go  away,  Nikky,"  she  said.  "And  it 
must  be  soon,  because  otherwise — " 

Nikky  dared  not  touch  her  again,  knowing  what 
he  had  to  say.  "Dearest,"  he  said,  bending  toward 
her,  "that  is  what  we  cannot  do." 

"No?"  She  looked  up,  puzzled,  but  still  confi 
dent.  "And  why,  cowardly  one?" 

"Because  I  have  given  my  word  to  remain  with 
the  Crown  Prince."  Then,  seeing  that  she  still  did 
not  comprehend,  he  explained,  swiftly.  After  all, 
she  had  a  right  to  know,  and  he  was  desperately 
anxious  that  she  should  understand.  He  stood,  as 
many  a  man  has  stood  before,  between  love  and 


350  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

loyalty  to  his  king,  and  he  was  a  soldier.  He  had  no 
choice. 

It  was  terrible  to  him  to  see  the  light  die  out  of 
her  eyes.  But  even  as  he  told  her  of  the  dangers  that 
compassed  the  child  and  possibly  others  of  the  fam 
ily,  he  saw  that  they  touched  her  remotely,  if  at  all. 
What  she  saw,  and  what  he  saw,  through  her  eyes, 
was  not  riot  and  anarchy,  a  threatened  throne, 
death  itself.  She  saw  only  a  vista  of  dreadful  years, 
herself  their  victim.  She  saw  her  mother's  bitter 
past.  She  saw  the  austere  face  of  her  grandmother, 
hiding  behind  that  mask  her  disappointments. 

But  all  she  said,  when  Nikky  finished,  was:  "I 
might  have  known  it.  Of  course  they  would  get  me, 
as  they  did  the  others."  But  a  moment  later  she 
rose  and  threw  out  her  arms.  "How  skillful  they 
are!  They  knew  about  it.  It  is  all  a  part  of  the 
plot.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  danger.  All  my  life  I 
have  heard  them  talk.  That  is  all  they  do  —  talk 
and  plan  and  plot,  and  do  things  in  secret.  They 
made  you  promise  never  to  desert  Otto,  so  that  their 
arrangements  need  not  be  interfered  with.  Oh,  I 
know  them,  better  than  you  do.  They  are  all  cruel. 
It  is  the  blood." 

What  Nikky  would  have  said  to  this  was  lost  by 
the  return  of  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto.  He 
came  in,  carrying  the  empty  cup  carefully.  "She 
took  it  all,"  he  said,  "and  she  feels  much  better.  I 
hope  you  did  n't  eat  all  the  bread  and  butter." 

Reassured  as  to  this  by  a  glance,  he  climbed  to 


AS  A  MAN  MAY  LOVE  A  WOMAN      251 

his  chair.  "We're  all  very  happy,  aren't  we?"  he 
observed.  "It's  quite  a  party.  When  I  grow  up  I 
shall  ask  you  both  to  tea  every  day." 

That  evening  the  Princess  Hedwig  went  unan 
nounced  to  her  grandfather's  apartment,  and  de 
manded  to  be  allowed  to  enter. 

A  gentleman-in-waiting  bowed  deeply,  but  stood 
before  the  door.  "Your  Highness  must  pardon  my 
reminding  Your  Highness,"  he  said  firmly,  "that  no 
one  may  enter  His  Majesty's  presence  without  per 
mission." 

"Then  go  in,"  said  Hedwig,  in  a  white  rage,  "and 
get  the  permission." 

The  gentleman-in-waiting  went  in,  very  deliber 
ately,  because  his  dignity  was  outraged.  The  moment 
he  had  gone,  however,  Hedwig  flung  the  door  open, 
and  followed,  standing,  a  figure  of  tragic  defiance, 
inside  the  heavy  curtains  of  the  King's  bedroom. 

"There  is  no  use  saying  you  won't  see  me,  grand 
father.  For  here  I  am." 

They  eyed  each  other,  the  one,  it  must  be  told,  a 
trifle  uneasily,  the  other  desperately.  Then  into 
the  King's  eyes  came  a  flash  of  admiration,  and  just 
a  gleam  of  amusement. 

"So  I  perceive,"  he  said.   "Come  here,  Hedwig." 

The  gentleman-in-waiting  bowed  himself  out. 
His  hands,  in  their  tidy  white  gloves,  would  have 
liked  to  box  Hedwig's  ears.  He  was  very  upset.  If 
this  sort  of  thing  went  on,  why  not  a  republic  at 
once  and  be  done  with  it? 


252  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

A  Sister  of  Charity  was  standing  by  the  King's 
bed.  She  had  cared  for  him  through  many  illnesses. 
In  the  intervals  she  retired  to  her  cloister  and  read 
holy  books  and  sewed  for  the  poor.  Even  now,  in 
her  little  chamber  off  the  bedroom,  where  bottles  sat 
in  neat  rows,  covered  with  fresh  towels,  there  lay  a 
small  gray  flannel  petticoat  to  warm  the  legs  of  one 
of  the  poor. 

The  sister  went  out,  her  black  habit  dragging,  but 
she  did  not  sew.  She  was  reading  a  book  on  the 
miracles  accomplished  by  pilgrimages  to  the  shrine 
of  Our  Lady  of  the  Angels,  in  the  mountains.  Could 
the  old  King  but  go  there,  she  felt,  he  would  be 
cured.  Or  failing  that,  if  there  should  go  for  him 
some  emissary,  pure  in  heart  and  of  high  purpose,  it 
might  avail.  Over  this  little  book  she  prayed  for 
courage  to  make  the  suggestion.  Had  she  thought 
of  it  sooner,  she  would  have  spoken  to  Father  Greg 
ory.  But  the  old  priest  had  gone  back  to  his  people, 
to  his  boys'  school,  to  his  thousand  duties  in  the 
hills. 

Sometime  later  she  heard  bitter  crying  in  the 
royal  bedchamber,  and  the  King's  tones,  soothing 
now  and  very  sad. 

"There  is  a  higher  duty  than  happiness,"  he  said. 
"There  are  greater  things  than  love.  And  one  day 
you  will  know  this." 

When  she  went  in  Hedwig  had  gone,  and  the  old 
King,  lying  in  his  bed,  was  looking  at  the  portrait  o/ 
his  dead  son. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AT    ETZEL 

THE  following  morning  the  Countess  Loschek  left 
for  a  holiday.  Minna,  silent  and  wretched,  had 
packed  her  things  for  her,  moving  about  the  room 
like  a  broken  thing.  And  the  Countess  had  sat  in  a 
chair  by  a  window,  and  said  nothing.  She  sent  away 
food  untasted,  took  no  notice  of  the  packing,  and 
stared,  hour  after  hour,  ahead  of  her. 

Certain  things  were  clear  enough.  Karl  could  not 
now  be  reached  by  the  old  methods.  She  had,  cast 
ing  caution  to  the  winds,  visited  the  shop  where  Peter 
Niburg  was  employed.  But  he  was  not  there,  and 
the  proprietor,  bowing  deeply,  disclaimed  all  knowl 
edge  of  his  whereabouts.  She  would  have  to  go  to 
Karl  herself,  a  difficult  matter  now.  She  would 
surely  be  watched.  And  the  thousand  desperate  plans 
that  she  thought  of  for  escaping  from  the  country  and 
hiding  herself, — in  America,  perhaps, — those  were 
impossible  for  the  same  reason.  She  was  helpless. 

She  had  the  choice  of  but  two  alternatives,  to  do 
as  she  had  been  commanded,  for  it  amounted  to 
that,  or  to  die.  The  Committee  would  not  kill  her, 
in  case  she  failed  them.  It  would  be  unnecessary. 
Enough  that  they  place  the  letter  and  the  code  in 
the  hands  of  the  authorities,  by  some  anonymous 


254  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

means.  Well  enough  she  knew  the  Chancellor's  in 
flexible  anger,  and  the  Archduchess  Annunciata's 
cold  rage.  They  would  sweep  her  away  with  a  ges 
ture,  and  she  would  die  the  death  of  all  traitors. 

A  week !  Time  had  been  when  a  week  of  the  drag 
ging  days  at  the  Palace  had  seemed  eternity.  Now 
the  hours  flew.  The  gold  clock  on  her  dressing-table, 
a  gift  from  the  Archduchess,  marked  them  with 
flying  hands. 

She  was,  for  the  first  time,  cut  off  from  the  gossip 
of  the  Palace.  The  Archduchess  let  her  severely 
alone.  She  disliked  having  anything  interfere  with 
her  own  comfort,  disliked  having  her  routine  dis 
turbed.  But  the  Countess  surmised  a  great  deal. 
She  guessed  that  Hedwig  would  defy  them,  and  that 
they  would  break  her  spirit  with  high  words.  She 
surmised  preparations  for  a  hasty  marriage  —  how 
hasty  she  dared  not  think.  And  she  guessed,  too, 
the  hopeless  predicament  of  Nikky  Larisch. 

She  sat  and  stared  ahead. 

During  the  afternoon  came  a  package,  rather  un- 
skillfully  tied  with  a  gilt  cord.  Opening  it,  the 
Countess  disclosed  a  glove-box  of  wood,  with  a  design 
of  rather  shaky  violets  burnt  into  the  cover.  Inside 
was  a  note :  — 

I  am  very  sorry  you  are  sick.  This  is  to  put  your 
gloves  in  when  you  travel.  Please  excuse  the  work.  I 
have  done  it  in  a  hurry. 

FERDINAND  WILLIAM  OTTO. 


AT  ETZEL  255 

Suddenly  the  Countess  laughed,  choking  hysteri 
cal  laughter  that  alarmed  Minna;  horrible  laughter, 
which  left  her  paler  than  ever,  and  gasping. 

The  old  castle  of  the  Loscheks  looked  grim  and 
inhospitable  when  she  reached  it  that  night.  Built 
during  the  years  when  the  unbeliever  overran  south 
ern  Europe,  it  stood  in  a  commanding  position  over 
a  valley,  and  a  steep,  walled  road  led  up  to  it.  The 
narrow  windows  of  its  turrets  were  built,  in  defiance 
of  the  Moslem  hordes,  in  the  shape  of  the  cross.  Its 
walls  had  been  hospitable  enough,  however,  when 
the  crusaders  had  thronged  by  to  redeem  the  Holy 
Sepulcher  from  the  grasp  of  the  infidel.  Here,  in  its 
stone  hall,  they  had  slept  in  weary  rows  on  the  floor. 
From  its  battlements  they  had  stared  south  and 
east  along  the  road  their  feet  must  follow. 

But  now,  its  ancient  glory  and  good  repute  de 
parted,  its  garrison  gone,  its  drawbridge  and  moat 
things  of  the  past,  its  very  hangings  and  furnishings 
mouldering  from  long  neglect,  it  hung  over  the  val 
ley,  a  past  menace,  an  empty  threat. 

To  this  dreary  refuge  the  Countess  had  fled.  She 
wanted  the  silence  of  its  still  rooms  in  which  to 
think.  Wretched  herself,  its  wretchedness  called 
her.  As  the  carriage  which  had  brought  her  from  the 
railway  turned  into  its  woods,  and  she  breathed  the 
pungent  odor  of  pine  and  balsam,  she  relaxed  for  the 
first  time. 

Why  was  she  so  hopeless?    She  could    escape. 


256  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

She  knew  the  woods  well.  None  who  followed  her 
could  know  them  so  well.  She  would  get  away,  and 
somewhere,  in  a  new  world,  make  a  fresh  start. 
Surely,  after  all,  peace  was  the  greatest  thing  in  the 
world. 

Peace !  The  word  attracted  her.  There  were  reli 
gious  houses  where  one  would  be  safe  enough, 
refuges  high-walled  and  secure,  into  which  no  alien 
foot  ever  penetrated.  And,  as  if  to  answer  the 
thought,  she  saw  at  that  moment  across  the  valley 
the  lights  of  Etzel,  the  tower  of  the  church,  with  its 
thirteen  bells,  the  monastery  buildings  behind  it, 
and  set  at  its  feet,  like  pilgrims  come  to  pray,  the 
low  houses  of  the  peasants.  For  the  church  at  Etzel 
contained  a  celebrated  shrine,  none  other  than  that 
of  Our  Lady  of  the  Angels,  and  here  came,  from  all 
over  the  kingdom,  long  lines  of  footsore  and  weary 
pilgrims,  seeking  peace  and  sanctity,  and  some  a 
miracle. 

The  carriage  drove  on;  Minna,  on  the  box,  crossed 
herself  at  sight  of  the  church,  and  chatted  with  the 
driver,  a  great  figure  who  crowded  her  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  seat. 

"I  am  glad  to  be  here,"  she  said.  "I  am  sick  of 
grandeur.  My  home  is  in  Etzel."  She  turned  and 
inspected  the  man  beside  her.  "You  are  a  new 
comer,  I  think?" 

"I  have  but  just  come  to  Etzel." 

''Then  you  cannot  tell  me  about  my  people." 
She  was  disappointed. 


AT  ETZEL  257 

"And  you,"  inquired  the  driver,  —  "you  will  stay 
for  a  visit?" 

"A  week  only.   But  better  than  nothing." 

"After  that,  you  return  to  the  city?" 

"Yes.  Madame  the  Countess  —  you  would 
know,  if  you  were  Etzel-born  —  Madame  the  Coun 
tess  is  lady-in-waiting  to  Her  Royal  Highness,  the 
Archduchess  Annunciata." 

"So!"  said  the  driver.  But  he  was  not  curious, 
and  the  broken  road  demanded  his  attention.  He 
was  but  newly  come,  so  very  newly  that  he  did  not 
know  his  way,  and  once  made  a  wrong  turning. 

The  Countess  relaxed.  She  had  not  been  followed. 
None  but  themselves  had  left  the  train.  She  was 
sure  of  that.  And  looking  back,  she  satisfied  herself 
that  no  stealthy  foot-traveler  dogged  their  slow 
progress.  She  breathed  quietly,  for  the  first  time. 

She  slept  that  night.  She  had  wired  ahead  of  her 
coming,  and  the  old  caretaker  and  his  wife  had 
opened  a  few  rooms,  her  boudoir  and  dressing-room, 
and  a  breakfast-room  on  the  first  floor.  They  had 
swept  the  hall  too,  and  built  a  fire  there,  but  it  had 
been  built  for  a  great  household,  and  its  emptiness 
chilled  her. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  she  roused  at  the 
ringing  of  a  bell,  telling  that  masses  had  already 
begun  at  the  church.  For  with  the  approach  of  Lent 
pilgrimages  had  greatly  increased  in  numbers.  But 
she  slept  again,  to  waken  to  full  sunlight,  greatly 
refreshed. 


258  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

When  she  had  breakfasted  and  dressed,  she  went 
out  on  a  balcony,  and  looked  down  at  the  valley.  It 
was  late.  Already  the  peasants  of  Etzel  had  gone 
out  to  their  fields.  Children  played  along  its  single 
streets.  A  few  women  on  the  steps  of  the  church 
made  rosaries  of  beads  which  they  strung  with  deft 
fingers.  A  band  of  pilgrims  struggled  up  the  valley, 
the  men  carrying  their  coats,  for  the  sun  was  warm, 
and  the  women  holding  their  skirts  from  the  dust. 

As  they  neared  the  church,  however,  coats  were 
donned.  The  procession  took  on  order  and  dignity. 
The  sight  was  a  familiar  one  to  the  Countess.  Her 
eyes  dropped  to  the  old  wall  below,  where  in  the 
sunshine  the  caretaker  was  beating  a  rug.  Close  to 
him,  in  intimate  and  cautious  conversation,  was  the 
driver  of  the  night  before.  Glancing  up,  they  saw 
her  and  at  once  separated. 

Gone  was  peace,  then.  The  Countess  knew  — 
knew  certainly.  "Our  eyes  see  everywhere."  Eyes, 
indeed,  —  eyes  that  even  now  the  caretaker  raised 
furtively  from  his  rug. 

Nevertheless,  the  Countess  was  minded  to  experi 
ment,  to  be  certain.  For  none  is  so  suspicious,  she 
knew,  as  one  who  fears  suspicion.  None  so  guilty  as 
the  guilty.  During  the  forenoon  she  walked  through 
the  woods,  going  briskly,  with  vigorous,  mountain- 
bred  feet.  No  crackle  of  underbrush  disturbed  her. 
Swift  turnings  revealed  no  lurking  figures  skulking 
behind  the  trunks  of  trees.  But  where  an  ancient 
stone  bridge  crossed  a  mountain  stream,  she  came 


AT  ETZEL  259 

on  the  huge  driver  of  the  night  before  reflectively 
fishing. 

He  saluted  her  gravely,  and  the  Countess  paused 
and  looked  at  him.  "You  have  caught  no  fish,  my 
friend?"  she  said. 

"No,  madame.  But  one  plays  about  my  hook." 

She  turned  back.  Eyes  everywhere,  and  arms, 
great  hairy  arms.  And  feet  that,  for  all  their  size, 
must  step  lightly! 

Restlessness  followed  her.  She  was  a  virtual  pris 
oner,  free  only  in  name.  And  the  vigilance  of  the 
Terrorists  obsessed  her.  She  found  a  day  gone,  and 
no  plan  made.  She  had  come  here  to  think,  and 
consecutive  thought  was  impossible.  She  went  to 
vespers  at  the  church,  and  sat  huddled  in  a  corner. 
She  suspected  every  eye  that  turned  on  her  in  frank 
curiosity.  When,  during  the  "Salve  Regina,"  the 
fathers,  followed  by  their  pupils,  went  slowly  down 
the  aisle,  in  reverent  procession  between  rows  of  pil 
grims,  she  saw  in  their  habits  only  a  grim  reminder 
of  the  black  disguises  of  the  Terrorists. 

On  the  second  day  she  made  a  desperate  resolve, 
and  characteristically  put  it  into  execution  at  once. 
She  sent  for  the  caretaker.  When  he  came,  uneasy, 
for  the  Loscheks  were  justly  feared  in  the  country 
side,  and  even  the  thing  of  which  he  knew  gave  him 
small  courage,  she  lost  no  time  in  evasion. 

"Go,"  she  said,  "and  bring  here  your  accomplice." 

"My  accomplice,  madame!   I  do  not — " 

"You  heard  me,"  she  said. 


260  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

He  turned,  half  sullen,  half  terrified,  and  paused. 
"Which  do  you  refer  to,  madame?" 

She  had  seen  only  the  one.  Then  there  were 
others.  Who  could  tell  how  many  others? 

"The  one  who  drove  here." 

So  he  went,  leaving  her  to  desperate  reflection. 
When  he  returned,  it  was  to  usher  in  the  heavy 
figure  of  the  spy. 

"Which  of  you  is  in  authority?"  she  demanded. 

"I,  madame."   It  was  the  spy  who  spoke. 

She  dismissed  the  caretaker  with  a  gesture. 

"Have  you  any  discretion  over  me?  Or  must  you 
refer  matters  to  those  who  sent  you?" 

"I  must  refer  to  them." 

"How  long  will  it  take  to  send  a  message  and  re 
ceive  a  reply?" 

He  considered.  "Until  to-morrow  night,  ma 
dame." 

Another  day  gone,  then,  and  nothing  determined  I 

"Now,  listen,"  she  said,  "and  listen  carefully.  I 
have  come  here  to  decide  a  certain  question. 
Whether  you  know  what  that  question  is  or  not,  does 
not  matter.  But  before  I  decide  it  I  must  take  a 
certain  journey.  I  wish  to  make  that  journey.  It  is 
into  Karnia." 

She  watched  him.  "  It  is  impossible.  My  instruc 
tions— " 

"  I  am  not  asking  your  permission.  I  wish  to  send 
a  letter  to  the  Committee.  They,  and  they  alone, 
will  determine  this  thing.  Will  you  send  the  letter?  " 


AT  ETZEL  261 

When  he  hesitated,  perplexed,  she  got  up  and 
moved  to  her  writing-table. 

"I  shall  write  the  letter,"  she  said  haughtily. 
"See  that  it  is  sent.  When  I  report  at  the  end  of  the 
time  that  I  have  sent  such  a  letter,  you  can  judge 
better  than  I  the  result  if  it  has  not  been  received." 

He  was  still  dubious,  but  she  wrote  the  letter  and 
gave  it  to  him,  her  face  proud  and  scornful.  But 
she  was  not  easy,  for  all  that,  and  she  watched  from 
her  balcony  to  see  if  any  messenger  left  the  castle 
and  descended  the  mountain  road.  She  was  re 
warded,  an  hour  later,  by  seeing  a  figure  leave  the 
old  gateway  and  start  afoot  toward  the  village,  a 
pale-faced  man  with  colorless  hair.  A  part  of  the 
hidden  guard  that  surrounded  her,  she  knew,  and 
somehow  familiar.  But,  although  she  racked  her 
brains,  she  could  not  remember  where  she  had  seen 
him. 

For  the  next  twenty-four  hours  she  waited.  Life 
became  one  long  endurance.  She  hated  the  forest, 
since  she  might  not  visit  it  alone.  She  hated  the 
castle,  because  it  was  her  prison.  She  stood  for 
hours  that  first  day  on  her  balcony,  surveying  with 
scornful  eyes  the  procession  of  the  devout,  weary 
women,  perspiring  men,  lines  of  children  going  to 
something  they  did  not  comprehend,  and  carrying 
clenched  in  small,  warm  hands  drooping  bunches  of 
early  mountain  flowers. 

And  always,  calling  her  to  something  she  scorned, 
rang  the  bells  for  mass  or  for  vespers.  The  very 


262  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

tower  below  beckoned  her  to  peace  —  her,  for  whom 
there  would  never  again  be  peace.  She  cursed  the 
bell  savagely,  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears,  to  be  wak 
ened  at  dawn  the  next  morning  to  its  insistent  call. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  for  her.  She  lay  there  in 
her  bare  room  and  gave  herself  to  bitter  reflection. 
Here,  in  this  very  castle,  she  had  met  Karl.  That 
was  eleven  years  before.  Prince  Hubert  was  living. 
During  a  period  of  peace  between  the  two  countries 
a  truce  had  been  arranged,  treaties  signed,  with 
every  prospect  of  permanence.  During  that  time 
Karl  and  Hubert,  glad  of  peace,  had  come  here  for 
the  hunting.  She  remembered  the  stir  about  their 
coming,  her  father's  hurried  efforts  to  get  things  in 
order,  the  cleaning  and  refurbishing,  the  peasants 
called  in  to  serve  the  royal  guests,  and  stripped  of 
their  quaint  costumes  to  be  put  into  ill-fitting  livery. 

They  had  bought  her  a  new  frock  for  evening 
wear,  the  father  who  was  now  dead,  and  the  old  aunt 
who  had  raised  her  —  an  ugly  black  satin,  too  m? 
ture  for  her.    She  had  put  it  on  in  that  very  room, 
and  wept  in  very  despair. 

Then  came  the  arrival,  her  father  on  the  doorstep, 
she  and  her  aunt  behind  him,  and  in  the  hall,  lines 
of  uneasy  and  shuffling  peasants.  How  awkward 
and  ill  at  ease  they  must  have  seemed!  Then  came 
the  carriage,  Hubert  alighting  first,  then  Karl.  Karl 
had  seen  her  instantly,  over  her  father's  bent  back. 

Lying  there,  seeing  things  with  the  clear  vision  of 
the  dawn,  she  wondered  whether,  had  she  met  Karl 


AT  ETZEL  263 

later,  in  her  sophisticated  maturity,  she  would  have 
fallen  in  love  with  him.  There  was  no  way  to  know. 
He  had  dawned  on  her  then,  almost  the  first  man  of 
rank  she  had  ever  seen.  She  saw  him,  not  only  with 
fresh  eyes,  but  through  the  halo  of  his  position.  He 
was  the  Crown  Prince  of  Karnia  then,  more  dashing 
than  Hubert,  who  was  already  married  and  had 
always  been  a  serious  youth,  handsomer,  a  blond  in 
a  country  of  few  blond  men.  His  joyous  smile  had 
not  taken  on  the  mocking  twist  it  acquired  later. 
His  blue  eyes  were  gay  and  joyous. 

When  she  had  bowed  and  would  have  kissed  his 
hand,  it  had  been  Karl  who  kissed  hers,  and  straight 
ened  to  smile  down  at  her. 

4 'This  is  a  very  happy  day,  Countess,"  he  had  said. 

Then  the  old  aunt  had  hustled  forward,  and  the 
peasants  had  bowed  nervously,  and  bustle  and  noise 
had  filled  the  old  place. 

For  four  days  the  royal  hunters  had  stayed.  On 
the  third  day  Karl  had  pleaded  fatigue,  and  they 
had  walked  through  the  pine  woods.  On  that  very 
devil's  bridge  he  had  kissed  her.  They  had  had  seri 
ous  talks,  too.  Karl  was  ambitious,  even  then.  The 
two  countries  were  at  peace,  but  for  how  long? 
Contrary  to  opinion,  he  said,  it  was  not  rulers  who 
led  their  people  into  war.  It  was  the  people  who 
forced  those  wars.  He  spoke  of  long  antagonisms, 
old  jealousies,  trade  relations. 

She  had  listened,  flattered,  had  been  an  intelli 
gent  audience.  Even  now,  she  felt  that  it  was  her 


264  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

intelligence  as  much  as  her  beauty  that  had  en 
snared  Karl.  For  ensnared  he  had  been.  She  had 
dreamed  wild  dreams  that  night  after  he  kissed  her, 
dreams  of  being  his  wife.  She  was  not  too  young  to 
know  passion  in  a  man's  eyes,  and  Karl's  had  burned 
with  it. 

Then,  the  next  day,  while  the  hunters  were  away, 
her  aunt  had  come  to  her,  ugly,  dowdy,  and  alarmed. 
"Little  fool!"  she  had  said.  "They  play,  these 
princes.  But  they  are  evil  with  women,  and  danger 
ous.  I  have  seen  your  eyes  on  him,  sick  with  love. 
And  Karl  will  amuse  himself — it  is  the  blood  —  and 
go  away,  laughing." 

She  had  been  working  with  the  satin  dress,  trying 
to  make  it  lovely  for  him.  Over  it  her  eyes  had  met 
her  aunt's,  small  and  twitching  with  anxiety.  "But 
suppose  he  cares  for  me?"  she  had  asked.  "Some 
times  I  think —  Why  should  you  say  he  is  evil?" 

"Bah!" 

She  had  grown  angry  then  and,  flinging  the  dress 
on  the  floor,  had  risen  haughtily.  "I  think  he  will 
marry  me,"  she  had  announced,  to  be  met  with 
blank  surprise,  followed  by  cackling  old  laughter. 

Karl  had  gone  away,  kissing  her  passionately, 
before  he  left  her,  in  the  dark  hall.  And  many 
things  had  followed.  A  cousin,  married  into  Karnia, 
became  lady-in-waiting  to  the  old  Queen.  Olga 
Loschek  had  visited  her.  No  accident  all  this,  but  a 
carefully  thought-out  plan  of  Karl's.  She  had  met 
Karl  again.  She  was  no  longer  the  ill-dressed,  awk- 


AT  ETZEL  265 

ward  girl  of  the  mountains,  and  his  passion  grew, 
rather  than  died. 

He  had  made  further  love  to  her  then,  urged  her 
to  go  away  with  him  on  a  journey  to  the  eastern  end 
of  the  kingdom,  would,  indeed,  have  compromised 
her  hopelessly.  But,  young  as  she  was,  she  had 
had  courage  and  strength ;  perhaps  shrewdness  too. 
Few  women  could  have  resisted  him.  He  was  gentle 
ness  itself  with  her,  kindly,  considerate,  passionate. 
But  she  had  kept  her  head. 

And  because  she  had  kept  her  head,  she  had  kept 
him.  Through  his  many  lapses,  his  occasional  mad 
adventures,  he  had  always  come  back  to  her.  Hav 
ing  never  possessed  her,  he  had  always  wanted  her. 
But  not  enough,  she  said  drearily  to  herself,  to  pay 
the  price  of  marriage. 

She  was  fair  enough  to  him.  Nothing  but  a  mor 
ganatic  marriage  would  be  possible,  and  this  would 
deprive  his  children  of  the  throne.  But  less  than 
marriage  she  would  not  have. 

The  old  Queen  died.  Her  cousin  retired  to  the 
country,  and  raised  pheasants  for  gayety.  Olga 
Loschek's  visits  to  Karnia  ceased.  In  time  a  place 
was  made  for  her  at  the  Court  of  Livonia  and  a  bril 
liant  marriage  for  her  was  predicted.  But  she  did 
not  marry.  Now  and  then  she  retired  to  the  castle 
near  the  border,  and  Karl  visited  her  there.  And, 
at  last,  after  years,  the  inevitable  happened. 

She  was  deeply  in  love,  and  the  years  were  passing. 
The  burden  of  resistance  had  always  been  on  her, 


266  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

and  marriage  was  out  of  the  question.  She  was  alone 
now.  Her  father  had  died,  and  the  old  aunt  was  in 
seclusion  in  a  nunnery,  where  she  pottered  around  a 
garden  and  knitted  endless  garments  for  the  poor. 

For  a  time  Olga  had  been  very  happy.  Karl's 
motor  crossed  the  mountains,  and  he  came  on  foot 
through  the  woods.  No  breath  of  scandal  touched 
her.  And,  outwardly,  Karl  did  not  change.  He  was 
still  her  ardent  lover.  But  the  times  when  they 
could  meet  were  few. 

And  the  Court  of  Livonia  heard  rumors  —  a 
gamekeeper's  daughter,  an  actress  in  his  own  cap 
ital,  these  were  but  two  of  the  many.  Olga  Loschek 
was  clever.  She  never  reproached  him  or  brought 
him  to  task.  She  had  felt  that,  whatever  his  lapses, 
the  years  had  made  her  necessary  to  him. 

The  war  that  followed  the  truce  had  seen  her 
Karl's  spy  in  Livonia.  She  had  undertaken  it  that 
the  burden  of  gratitude  should  be  on  him  —  a  false 
step,  for  men  chafe  under  the  necessity  for  gratitude. 

Then  had  come  another  peace,  and  his  visit  to  the 
summer  palace.  There  he  had  seen  Hedwig,  grown 
since  his  last  visit  to  lovely  girlhood,  and  having 
what  Olga  Loschek  could  never  again  possess,  youth. 

And  now  he  would  marry  her,  and  Olga  Loschek, 
his  tool  and  spy,  was  in  danger  of  her  life. 

That  day,  toward  evening,  the  huge  man  pre 
sented  himself.  He  brought  no  letter,  but  an  oral 
message.  "Permission  is  given,  madame,"  he  said. 
"I  myself  shall  accompany  you." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

NIKKY   MAKES   A    PROMISE 

THE  Chancellor  lived  alone,  in  his  little  house  near 
the  Palace,  a  house  that  looked  strangely  like  him, 
overhanging  eyebrows  and  all,  with  windows  that 
were  like  his  eyes,  clear  and  concealing  many 
secrets.  A  grim,  gray  little  old  house,  which  con 
cealed  behind  it  a  walled  garden  full  of  unexpected 
charm.  And  that,  too,  was  like  the  Chancellor. 

In  his  study  on  the  ground  floor,  overlooking  the 
garden,  the  Chancellor  spent  his  leisure  hours. 
Here,  on  the  broad,  desk-like  arm  of  his  chair,  where 
so  many  state  documents  had  lain  for  signature, 
most  of  his  meals  were  served.  Here,  free  from  the 
ghosts  that  haunted  the  upper  rooms,  he  dreamed 
his  dream  of  a  greater  kingdom. 

Mathilde  kept  his  house  for  him,  mended  and 
pressed  his  uniforms,  washed  and  starched  his  linen, 
quarreled  with  the  orderly  who  attended  him,  and 
drove  him  to  bed  at  night. 

"It  is  midnight,"  she  would  say  firmly  —  or  one 
o'clock,  or  even  later,  for  the  Chancellor  was  old, 
and  needed  little  sleep.  "Give  me  the  book."  Be 
cause,  if  she  did  not  take  it,  he  would  carry  it  off  to 
bed,  and  reading  in  bed  is  bad  for  the  eyes. 

"Just  a  moment,  Mathilde,"  he  would  say,  and 


268  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

finish  a  paragraph.  Sometimes  he  went  on  reading, 
and  forgot  about  her,  to  look  up,  a  half -hour  later, 
perhaps,  and  find  her  still  standing  there,  immobile, 
firm. 

Then  he  would  sigh,  and  close  the  book. 

At  his  elbow  every  evening  Mathilde  placed  a 
glass  of  milk.  If  he  had  forgotten  it,  now  he  sipped 
it  slowly,  and  the  two  talked  —  of  homely  things, 
mostly,  the  garden,  or  moths  in  the  closed  rooms 
which  had  lost,  one  by  one,  their  beloved  occupants, 
or  of  a  loose  tile  on  the  roof.  But  now  and  then  their 
conversation  was  more  serious. 

Mathilde,  haunting  the  market  with  its  gayly 
striped  booths,  its  rabbits  hung  in  pairs  by  the  ears, 
its  strings  of  dried  vegetables,  its  lace  bazaars  — 
Mathilde  was  in  touch  with  the  people.  It  was  Ma 
thilde,  and  not  one  of  his  agents,  who  had  brought 
word  of  the  approaching  revolt  of  the  coppersmiths' 
guild,  and  enabled  him  to  check  it  almost  before  it 
began.  A  stoic,  this  Mathilde,  with  her  tall,  spare 
figure  and  glowing  eyes,  stoic  and  patriot.  Once 
every  month  she  burned  four  candles  before  the 
shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows  in  the  cathedral,  be 
cause  of  four  sons  she  had  given  to  her  country. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  Hedwig  had  made  her 
futile  appeal  to  the  King,  the  Chancellor  sat  alone. 
His  dinner,  almost  untasted,  lay  at  his  elbow.  It  was 
nine  o'clock.  At  something  after  seven  he  had  paid 
his  evening  visit  to  the  King,  and  had  found  him 
uneasy  and  restless. 


NIKKY  MAKES  A  PROMISE  269 

"Sit  down,"  the  King  had  said.  "I  need  steady 
ing,  old  friend." 

"Steadying,  sire?" 

"I  have  had  a  visit  from  Hedwig.  Rather  a 
stormy  one,  poor  child."  He  turned  and  fixed  on  his 
Chancellor  his  faded  eyes.  "In  this  course  that  you 
have  laid  out,  and  that  I  am  following,  as  I  always 
have," — irony  this,  but  some  truth,  too, — "have  you 
no  misgivings?  You  still  think  it  is  the  best  thing?" 

"It  is  the  only  thing." 

"But  all  this  haste,"  put  in  the  King  querulously. 
"Is  that  so  necessary?  Hedwig  begs  for  time.  She 
hardly  knows  the  man." 

"Time!  But  I  thought  — "  He  hesitated.  How 
say  to  a  dying  man  that  time  was  the  one  thing  he 
did  not  have? 

"Another  thing.  She  was  incoherent,  but  I  gath 
ered  that  there  was  some  one  else.  The  whole  inter 
view  was  cyclonic.  It  seems,  however,  that  this 
young  protege  of  yours,  Larisch,  has  been  making 
love  to  her  over  Otto's  head." 

Mettlich's  face  hardened,  a  gradual  process,  as 
the  news  penetrated  in  all  its  significance. 

"I  should  judge,"  the  King  went  on  relentlessly, 
"that  this  vaunted  affection  of  his  for  the  boy  is 
largely  assumed,  a  cover  for  other  matters.  But," 
he  added,  with  a  flicker  of  humor,  "my  grand 
daughter  assures  me  that  it  is  she  who  has  made  the 
advances.  I  believe  she  asked  him  to  elope  with  her, 
and  he  refused!" 


270  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"A  boy-and-girl  affair,  sire.  He  is  loyal.  And  in 
all  of  this,  you  and  I  are  reckoning  without  Karl. 
The  Princess  hardly  knows  him,  and  naturally  she  is 
terrified.  But  his  approaching  visit  will  make  many 
changes.  He  is  a  fine  figure  of  a  man,  and  women  — 

"Exactly,"  said  the  King  dryly.  What  the  Chan 
cellor  meant  was  that  women  always  had  loved 
Karl,  and  the  King  understood. 

"His  wild  days  are  over,"  bluntly  observed  the 
Chancellor.  "He  is  forty,  sire." 
1  "Aye,"  said  the  King.  "And  at  forty  a  bad  man 
changes  his  nature,  and  purifies  himself  in  marriage ! 
Nonsense,  Karl  will  be  as  he  has  always  been.  But 
we  have  gone  into  this  before.  Only,  I  am  sorry  for 
Hedwig.  Hilda  would  have  stood  it  better.  She  is 
like  her  father.  However"  -  his  voice  hardened  — 
"the  thing  is  arranged,  and  we  must  carry  out  our 
contract.  Get  rid  of  this  young  Larisch." 

The  Chancellor  sat  reflecting,  his  chin  dropped 
forward  on  his  breast.  "Otto  will  miss  him." 

"Well,  out  with  it.  I  may  not  dismiss  him.  What, 
then?" 

"It  is  always  easy  to  send  men  away.  But  it  is 
sometimes  better  to  retain  them,  and  force  them  to 
your  will.  We  have  here  an  arrangement  that  is  sat 
isfactory.  Larisch  is  keen,  young,  and  loyal.  Hed 
wig  has  thrown  herself  at  him.  For  that,  sire,  she  is 
responsible,  not  he." 

"Then  get  rid  of  her,"  growled  the  King. 

The  Chancellor  rose.    "If  the  situation  is  left  to 


NIKKY  MAKES  A  PROMISE  271 

me,  sire,"  he  said,  "I  will  promise  two  things.  That 
Otto  will  keep  his  friend,  and  that  the  Princess  Hed- 
wig  will  bow  to  your  wishes  without  further  argu 
ment." 

"Do  it,  and  God  help  you!"  said  the  King,  again 
with  the  flicker  of  amusement. 

The  Chancellor  had  gone  home,  walking  heavily 
along  the  darkening  streets.  Once  again  he  had  con 
quered.  The  reins  remained  in  his  gnarled  old  hands. 
And  he  was  about  to  put  the  honor  of  the  country 
into  the  keeping  of  the  son  of  Maria  Menrad,  whom 
he  had  once  loved. 

So  now  he  sat  in  his  study,  and  waited.  A  great 
meerschaum  pipe,  a  stag's  head  with  branching  ant 
lers  and  colored  dark  with  years  of  use,  lay  on  his 
tray;  and  on  his  knee,  but  no  longer  distinguishable 
in  the  dusk,  lay  an  old  daguerreotype  of  Maria 
Menrad. 

When  he  heard  Nikky's  quick  step  as  he  came 
along  the  tiled  passage,  he  slipped  the  case  into  the 
pocket  of  his  shabby  house-coat,  and  picked  up  the 
pipe. 

Nikky  saluted,  and  made  his  way  across  the  room 
in  the  twilight,  with  the  ease  of  familiarity.  "I  am 
late,  sir,"  he  apologized.  "We  found  our  man,  and 
he  is  safely  jailed.  He  made  no  resistance." 

"Sit  down,"  said  the  Chancellor.  And,  touching 
a  bell,  he  asked  Mathilde  for  coffee.  "So  we  have 
him,"  he  reflected.  "The  next  thing  is  to  discover 
if  he  knows  who  his  assailants  were.  That,  and  the 


272  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

person  for  whom  he  acted —  However,  I  sent  for  you 
for  another  reason.  What  is  this  about  the  Princess 
Hedwig?" 

"The  Princess  Hedwig!" 

"What  folly,  boy!  A  young  girl  who  cannot  know 
her  own  mind !  And  for  such  a  bit  of  romantic  trifling 
you  would  ruin  yourself.  It  is  ruin.  You  know  that." 

"I  am  sorry,"  Nikky  said  simply.  "As  far  as  my 
career  goes,  it  does  not  matter.  But  I  am  thinking 
of  her." 

"A  trifle  late." 

"But,"  Nikky  spoke  up  valiantly,  "it  is  not  ro 
mantic  folly,  in  the  way  you  mean,  sir.  As  long  as  I 
live,  I  shall  —  It  is  hopeless,  of  course,  sir." 

"Madness,"  commented  the  Chancellor.  "Sheer 
spring  madness.  You  would  carry  her  off,  I  dare  say, 
and  hide  yourselves  at  the  end  of  a  rainbow!  Folly!" 

Nikky  remained  silent,  a  little  sullen. 

"The  Princess  went  to  the  King  with  her  story 
this  evening."  The  boy  started.  "A  cruel  proceed 
ing,  but  the  young  are  always  cruel.  The  expected 
result  has  followed :  the  King  wishes  you  sent  away." 

"I  am  at  his  command,  sir." 

The  Chancellor  filled  his  pipe  from  a  bowl  near 
by,  working  deliberately.  Nikky  sat  still,  rather 
rigid. 

"May  I  ask,"  he  said  at  last,  "that  you  say  to  the 
King  that  the  responsibility  is  mine?  No  possible 
blame  can  attach  to  the  Princess  Hedwig.  I  love 
her,  and  —  I  am  not  clever.  I  show  what  I  feel." 


NIKKY  MAKES  A  PROMISE  273 

He  was  showing  it  then,  both  hurt  and  terror, 
not  for  himself,  but  for  her.  His  voice  shook  in  spite 
of  his  efforts  to  be  every  inch  a  soldier. 

"The  immediate  result,"  said  the  Chancellor 
cruelly,  "will  doubtless  be  a  putting  forward  of  the 
date  for  her  marriage."  Nikky's  hands  clenched. 
"A  further  result  would  be  your  dismissal  from  the 
army.  One  does  not  do  such  things  as  you  have 
done,  lightly." 

"Lightly!"  said  Nikky  Larisch.   "God!" 

"But,"  continued  the  Chancellor,  "I  have  a  bet 
ter  way.  I  have  faith,  for  one  thing,  in  your  blood. 
The  son  of  Maria  Menrad  must  be  —  his  mother's 
son.  And  the  Crown  Prince  is  attached  to  you.  Not 
for  your  sake,  but  for  his,  I  am  inclined  to  be  len 
ient.  What  I  shall  demand  for  that  leniency  is  that 
no  word  of  love  again  pass  between  you  and  the 
Princess  Hedwig." 

"It  would  be  easier  to  go  away." 

"Aye,  of  course.  But 'easier 'is  not  your  word  nor 
mine."  But  Nikky's  misery  touched  him.  He  rose 
and  placed  a  heavy  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "  It 
is  not  as  simple  as  that.  I  know,  boy.  But  you  are 
young,  and  these  things  grow  less  with  time.  You 
need  not  see  her.  She  will  be  forbidden  to  visit  Otto 
or  to  go  to  the  riding-school.  You  see,  I  know  about 
the  riding-school!  And,  in  a  short  time  now,  the 
marriage  will  solve  many  difficulties." 

Nikky  closed  his  eyes.  It  was  getting  to  be  a 
habit,  just  as  some  people  crack  their  knuckles. 


274  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"We  need  our  friends  about  us,"  the  Chancellor 
continued.  "The  Carnival  is  coming,  always  a  dan 
gerous  time  for  us.  The  King  grows  weaker  day  by 
day.  A  crisis  is  impending  for  all  of  us,  and  we  need 
you." 

Nikky  rose,  steady  enough  now,  but  white  to  the 
lips. 

"I  give  my  word,  sir,"  he  said.  "I  shall  say  no 
word  of  —  of  how  I  feel  to  Hedwig.  Not  again.  She 
knows  —  and  I  think,"  he  added  proudly,  "that  she 
knows  I  shall  not  change.  That  I  shall  always  - 

"Exactly!"  said  the  Chancellor.  It  was  the  very 
pitch  of  the  King's  dry  old  voice.  "Of  course  she 
knows,  being  a  woman.  And  now,  good-night." 

But  long  after  Nikky  had  gone  he  sat  in  the  dark 
ness.  He  felt  old  and  tired  and  a  hypocrite.  The 
boy  would  not  forget,  as  he  himself  had  not  forgot 
ten.  His  hand,  thrust  into  his  pocket,  rested  on  the 
faded  daguerreotype  there. 

Peter  Niburg  was  shot  at  dawn  the  next  morning. 
He  went,  a  coward,  to  his  death,  held  between  two 
guards  and  crying  piteously.  But  he  died  a  brave 
man.  Not  once  in  the  long  hours  of  his  interrogation 
had  he  betrayed  the  name  of  the  Countess  Loschek. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE    BIRTHDAY 

THE  Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  of 
Livonia  was  having  a  birthday.  Now,  a  birthday 
for  a  Crown  Prince  of  Livonia  is  not  a  matter  of  a 
cake  with  candles  on  it,  and  having  his  ears  pulled, 
once  for  each  year  and  an  extra  one  to  grow  on.  Nor 
of  a  holiday  from  lessons,  and  a  picnic  in  spring 
woods.  Nor  of  a  party,  with  children  frolicking  and 
scratching  the  best  furniture. 

In  the  first  place,  he  was  wakened  at  dawn  and 
taken  to  early  service  in  the  chapel,  a  solemn  func 
tion,  with  the  Court  assembled  and  slightly  sleepy. 
The  Crown  Prince,  who  was  trying  to  look  his  addi 
tional  dignity  of  years,  sat  and  stood  as  erect  as  pos 
sible,  and  yawned  only  once. 

After  breakfast  he  was  visited  by  the  chaplain 
who  had  his  religious  instruction  in  hand,  and  inter 
rogated.  He  did  not  make  more  than  about  sixty 
per  cent  in  this,  however,  and  the  chaplain  departed 
looking  slightly  discouraged. 

Lessons  followed,  and  in  each  case  the  tutor  re 
minded  him  that,  having  now  reached  his  tenth 
birthday,  he  should  be  doing  better  than  in  the  past. 
Especially  the  French  tutor,  who  had  just  heard  a 
rumor  of  Hedwig's  marriage. 


276  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING 

At  eleven  o'clock  came  word  that  the  King  was 
too  ill  to  have  him  to  luncheon,  but  that  he  would 
see  him  for  a  few  moments  that  afternoon.  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto,  who  was  diagramming  the 
sentence,  "  Abraham  Lincoln  freed  the  slaves  in 
America,"  and  doing  it  wrong,  looked  up  in  dismay. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what 's  the  use  of  having  a  birth 
day,"  he  declared  rebelliously. 

The  substitution  of  luncheon  with  the  Arch 
duchess  Annunciata  hardly  thrilled  him.  Unluckily 
he  made  an  observation  to  that  effect,  and  got  five 
off  in  Miss  Braithwaite's  little  book. 

The  King  did  not  approve  of  birthday  gifts.  The 
expensive  toys  which  the  Court  would  have  offered 
the  child  were  out  of  key  with  the  simplicity  of  his 
rearing.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Crown  Prince  had 
never  heard  of  a  birthday  gift,  and  had,  indeed, 
small  experience  of  gifts  of  any  kind,  except  as  he 
made  them  himself.  For  that  he  had  a  great  fond 
ness.  His  small  pocket  allowance  generally  dissi 
pated  itself  in  this  way. 

So  there  were  no  gifts.  None,  that  is,  until  the 
riding-hour  came,  and  Nikky,  subverter  of  all  disci 
pline.  He  had  brought  a  fig  lady,  wrapped  in  paper. 

"It's  quite  fresh,"  he  said,  as  they  walked  to 
gether  across  the  Place.  "  I  '11  give  it  to  you  when  we 
get  to  the  riding-school.  I  saw  the  woman  myself 
take  it  out  of  her  basket.  So  it  has  no  germs  on  it." 

But,  although  he  spoke  bravely,  Nikky  was  the 
least  bit  nervous.  First  of  all  he  was  teaching  the 


THE  BIRTHDAY  277 

boy  deception.  "  But  why  don't  they  treat  him  like 
a  human  being?"  he  demanded  of  himself.  Naturally 
there  was  no  answer.  Maria  Menrad's  son  had  a 
number  of  birthdays  in  his  mind,  real  birthdays 
with  much  indulgence  connected  with  them. 

Second,  suppose  it  really  had  a  germ  or  two  on  it? 
Anxiously,  having  unwrappd  it,  he  examined  it  in 
the  sunlight  of  a  window  of  the  ring.  Certainly,  thus 
closely  inspected,  it  looked  odd.  There  were  small 
granules  over  it. 

The  Crown  Prince  waited  patiently.  "Miss 
Braithwaite  says  that  if  you  look  at  them  under  a 
glass,  there  are  bugs  on  them,"  he  observed,  with 
interest. 

"Perhaps,  after  all,  you'd  better  not  have  it." 

"They  are  very  small  bugs,"  said  Prince  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto  anxiously.  "I  don't  object  to 
them  at  all." 

So,  after  all,  Nikky  uneasily  presented  his  gift, 
and  nothing  untoward  happened.  He  was  rewarded, 
however,  by  such  a  glow  of  pleasure  and  gratitude 
from  the  boy  that  his  scruples  faded. 

No  Hedwig  again,  to  distract  Nikky 's  mind. 
The  lesson  went  on,  trot,  canter,  low  jumps.  And 
then  what  Nikky  called  "stunts,"  an  American  word 
which  delighted  the  Crown  Prince. 

But,  Nikky,  like  the  big  child  he  was  himself,  had 
kept  his  real  news  to  the  last. 

Already,  he  was  offering  himself  on  the  altar  of 
the  child's  safety.  Behind  his  smiles  lay  something 


278  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

of  the  glow  of  the  martyr.  His  eyes  were  sunken,  his 
lips  drawn.  He  had  not  slept  at  all,  nor  eaten.  But 
to  the  boy  he  meant  to  show  no  failing,  to  be  the 
prince  of  playmates,  the  brother  of  joy.  Perhaps  in 
this  way,  he  felt,  lay  his  justification. 

So  now,  with  the  Crown  Prince  facing  toward  the 
Palace  again,  toward  luncheon  with  his  aunt  and  a 
meeting  with  the  delegation,  Nikky,  like  an  epicure 
of  sensations,  said:  "By  the  way,  Otto,  I  found  that 
dog  you  saw  yesterday.  What  was  his  name?  Toto?  " 

''Where  did  you  find  him?   Yes,  Toto!" 

"I  looked  him  up,"  said  Nikky  modestly.  "You 
see,  it's  like  this:  He's  a  pretty  nice  dog.  There 
are  n't  many  dogs  like  him.  And  I  thought  —  well, 
nobody  can  say  /  can't  have  a  dog." 

"You've  got  him?  You,  yourself?" 

"I,  myself.  I  dare  say  he  has  fleas,  and  they  will 
get  in  the  carpet,  but  —  I  tell  you  what  I  thought: 
He  will  be  really  your  dog,  do  you  see?  I  '11  take  care 
of  him,  and  keep  him  for  you,  and  bring  him  out  to 
walk  where  you  can  see  him.  Then,  when  they  say 
you  may  have  a  dog,  you  've  got  one,  already.  All  I 
have  to  do  is  to  bring  him  to  you." 

Wise  Nikky,  of  the  understanding  boy's  heart. 
He  had  brought  into  the  little  Prince's  life  its  first 
real  interest,  something  vital,  living.  And  something 
of  the  soreness  and  hurt  of  the  last  few  hours  died 
in  Nikky  before  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto's 
smile. 

"Oh,  Nikky!"  was  all  the  child  said  at  first,  and 


THE  BIRTHDAY  279 

grew  silent  for  very  happiness.  Then:  "We  can  talk 
about  him.  You  can  tell  me  all  the  things  he  does, 
and  I  can  send  him  bones,  can't  I?  Unless  you  don't 
care  to  carry  them." 

This,  in  passing,  explains  the  reason  why,  to  the 
eyes  of  astonished  servants,  from  that  day  forth  the 
Crown  Prince  of  Livonia  apparently  devoured  his 
chop,  bone  and  all.  And  why  Nikky  resembled,  at 
times,  a  well-set-up,  trig,  and  soldierly  appearing 
charnel-house.  "  If  I  am  ever  arrested,"  he  once  de 
murred,  "and  searched,  Highness,  I  shall  be  con 
signed  to  a  madhouse." 

Luncheon  was  extremely  unsuccessful.  His  Cousin 
Hedwig  looked  as  though  she  had  been  crying,  and 
Hilda,  eating  her  soup  too  fast,  was  sent  from  the 
table.  The  Crown  Prince,  trying  to  make  conversa 
tion,  chose  Nikky  as  his  best  subject,  and  met  an 
icy  silence.  Also,  attempting  to  put  the  bone  from 
a  chicken  leg  in  his  pocket,  he  was  discovered. 

"What  in  the  world!"  exclaimed  the  Arch 
duchess.  "What  do  you  want  of  a  chicken  bone?" 

"I  just  wanted  it,  Tante." 

"  It  is  greasy.   Look  at  your  fingers!" 

"Mother,"  Hedwig  said  quietly,  "it  is  his  birth 
day." 

"  I  do  not  need  you  to  remind  me  of  that.  Have  I 
not  been  up  since  the  middle  of  the  night,  for  that 
reason?" 

But  she  said  no  more,  and  was  a  trifle  more  agree 
able  during  the  remainder  of  the  meal.  She  was  just 


280  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

a  bit  uneasy  before  Hedwig  those  days.  She  did  not 
like  the  look  in  her  eyes. 

That  afternoon,  attired  in  his  uniform  of  the 
Guards,  the  Crown  Prince  received  the  delegation  of 
citizens  in  the  great  audience  chamber  of  the  Pal 
ace,  a  solitary  little  figure,  standing  on  the  red  car 
pet  before  the  dais  at  the  end.  Behind  him,  stately 
with  velvet  hangings,  was  the  tall  gilt  chair  which 
some  day  would  be  his.  Afternoon  sunlight,  coming 
through  the  long  windows  along  the  side,  shone  on 
the  prisms  of  the  heavy  chandeliers,  lighted  up  the 
paintings  of  dead  and  gone  kings  of  his  line,  gleamed 
in  great  mirrors  and  on  the  polished  floor. 

On  each  side  of  his  small  figure  the  Council 
grouped  itself,  fat  Friese,  rat-faced  Marschall, 
Bayerl,  with  his  soft  voice  and  white  cheeks  lighted 
by  hot  eyes,  and  the  others.  They  stood  very  stiff, 
in  their  white  gloves.  Behind  them  were  grouped 
the  gentlemen  of  the  Court,  in  full  dress  and  deco 
rated  with  orders.  At  the  door  stood  the  Lord 
Chamberlain,  very  gorgeous  in  scarlet  and  gold. 

The  Chancellor  stood  near  the  boy,  resplendent 
in  his  dress  uniform,  a  blue  ribbon  across  his  shirt 
front,  over  which  Mathilde  had  taken  hours.  He 
was  the  Mettlich  of  the  public  eye  now,  hard  of 
features,  impassive,  inflexible. 

In  ordinary  times  less  state  would  have  been 
observed,  a  smaller  room,  Mettlich  only,  or  but  one 
or  two  others,  an  informal  ceremony.  But  the 
Chancellor  shrewdly  intended  to  do  the  delegation 


THE  BIRTHDAY  281 

all  honor,  the  Palace  to  give  its  best,  that  the  city, 
in  need,  might  do  likewise. 

And  he  had  staged  the  affair  well.  The  Crown 
Prince,  standing  alone,  so  small,  so  appealing, 
against  his  magnificent  background,  was  a  picture 
to  touch  the  hardest.  Not  for  nothing  had  Mettlich 
studied  the  people,  read  their  essential  simplicity, 
their  answer  to  any  appeal  to  the  heart.  These  men 
were  men  of  family.  Surely  no  father  of  a  son  could 
see  that  lonely  child  and  not  offer  him  loyalty. 

With  the  same  wisdom,  he  had  given  the  boy 
small  instruction,  and  no  speech  of  thanks.  "Let 
him  say  what  comes  into  his  head,"  Mettlich  had 
reasoned.  "It  will  at  least  be  spontaneous  and 
boyish." 

The  Crown  Prince  was  somewhat  nervous.  He 
blinked  rapidly  as  the  delegation  entered  and  pro 
ceeded  up  the  room.  However,  happening  at  that 
moment  to  remember  Nikky  with  the  brass  inkwell, 
he  forgot  himself  in  amusement.  He  took  a  good 
look  at  the  gold  casket,  as  it  approached,  reverently 
borne,  and  rather  liked  its  appearance.  It  would 
have  been,  he  reflected,  extremely  convenient  to 
keep  things  in,  pencils  and  erasers,  on  his  desk.  But, 
of  course,  he  would  not  have  it  to  keep.  Quite  a 
number  of  things  passed  into  his  possession  and  out 
again  with  the  same  lightning-like  rapidity. 

The  first  formalities  over,  and  the  Crown  Prince 
having  shaken  hands  nine  times,  the  spokesman 
stepped  forward.  He  had  brought  a  long,  written 


282  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

speech,  which  had  already  been  given  to  the  news 
papers.  But  after  a  moment's  hesitation  he  folded 
it  up. 

"Your  Royal  Highness,"  he  said,  looking  down, 
"I  have  here  a  long  speech,  but  all  that  it  contains 
I  can  say  briefly.  It  is  your  birthday,  Highness.  We 
come,  representing  many  others,  to  present  to  you 
our  congratulations,  and  —  the  love  of  your  people. 
It  is  our  hope"  —  He  paused.  Emotion  and  excite 
ment  were  getting  the  better  of  him  —  "our  hope, 
Highness,  that  you  will  have  many  happy  years. 
To  further  that  hope,  we  are  here  to-day  to  say  that 
we,  representing  all  classes,  are  your  most  loyal  sub 
jects.  We  have  fought  for  His  Majesty  the  King, 
and  if  necessary  we  will  fight  for  you."  He  glanced 
beyond  the  child  at  the  Council,  and  his  tone  was 
strong  and  impassioned.  "But  to-day  we  are  here, 
not  to  speak  of  war,  but  to  present  to  you  our  con 
gratulations,  our  devotion,  and  our  loyalty." 

Also  a  casket.  He  had  forgotten  that.  He  stepped 
back,  was  nudged,  and  recollected. 

"Also  a  gift,"  he  said,  and  ruined  a  fine  speech 
among  smiles.  But  the  presentation  took  place  in 
due  order,  and  Otto  cleared  his  throat. 

"Thank  you  all  very  much,"  he  said.  "It  is  a 
very  beautiful  gift.  I  admire  it  very  much.  I  should 
like  to  keep  it  on  my  desk,  but  I  suppose  it  is  too 
valuable.  Thank  you  very  much." 

The  spokesman  hoped  that  it  might  be  arranged 
that  he  keep  it  on  his  desk,  an  ever-present  reminder 


THE  BIRTHDAY  283 

of  the  love  of  his  city.  To  this  the  Chancellor 
observed  that  it  would  be  arranged,  and  the  affair 
was  over.  To  obviate  the  difficulty  of  having  the 
delegation  back  down  the  long  room,  it  was  the 
Crown  Prince  who  departed  first,  with  the  Chan 
cellor. 

Altogether,  it  was  comfortably  over,  and  the 
Chancellor  reflected  grimly  that  the  boy  had  done 
well.  He  had  made  friends  of  the  delegation  at  a 
time  when  he  needed  friends.  As  they  walked  along 
the  long  corridors  of  the  Palace  together,  the  Chan 
cellor  was  visualizing  another  scene,  which  must 
come  soon,  pray  God  with  as  good  result:  the  time 
when,  the  old  King  dead  and  the  solemn  bell  of  the 
cathedral  tolling,  this  boy  would  step  out  on  to  the 
balcony  overlooking  the  Place,  and  show  himself  to 
the  great  throng  below  the  windows. 

To  offset  violence  and  anarchy  itself,  only  that 
one  small  figure  on  the  balcony! 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  King  sent  for  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto.  He  had  not  left  his  bed 
since  the  day  he  had  placed  the  matter  of  Hedwig's 
marriage  before  the  Council,  and  now  he  knew  he 
would  never  leave  it.  There  were  times  between 
sleeping  and  waking  when  he  fancied  he  had  already 
gone,  and  that  only  his  weary  body  on  the  bed 
remained.  At  such  times  he  saw  Hubert,  only, 
strangely  enough,  not  as  a  man  grown,  but  as  a  small 
boy  again;  and  his  Queen,  but  as  she  had  looked 
many  years  before,  when  he  married  her,  and  when 


284  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

at  last,  after  months  of  married  wooing,  she  had 
crept  willing  into  his  arms. 

So,  awakening  from  a  doze,  he  saw  the  boy  there, 
and  called  him  Hubert.  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto,  feeling  rather  worried,  did  the  only  thing  he 
could  think  of.  He  thrust  his  warm  hand  into  his 
grandfather's  groping  one,  and  the  touch  of  his  soft 
flesh  roused  the  King. 

The  Sister  left  them  together,  and  in  her  small 
room  dropped  on  her  knees  before  the  holy  image. 
There,  until  he  left,  she  prayed  for  the  King's  soul, 
for  the  safety  and  heavenly  guidance  of  the  boy.  The 
wind  stirred  her  black  habit  and  touched  gently  her 
white  coif.  She  prayed,  her  pale  lips  moving  si 
lently. 

In  the  King's  bedchamber  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  sat  on  a  high  chair,  and  talked.  He 
was  extremely  relieved  that  his  exile  was  over,  but 
he  viewed  his  grandfather  with  alarm.  His  aunt  had 
certainly  intimated  that  his  running  away  had  made 
the  King  worse.  And  he  looked  very  ill. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,  grandfather,"  he  said. 

"For  what?" 

"That  I  went  away  the  other  day,  sir." 

"It  was,  after  all,  a  natural  thing  to  do." 

The  Crown  Prince  could  hardly  believe  his  ears. 

"If  it  could  only  be  arranged  safely  —  a  little 
freedom  —  The  King  lay  still  with  closed  eyes. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  felt  uneasy.  "  But 
I  am  very  comfortable,  and  —  and  happy,"  he  has- 


THE  BIRTHDAY  285 

tened  to  say.  "You  are,  please,  not  to  worry  about 
me,  sir.  And  about  the  paper  I  threw  at  Monsieur 
Puaux  the  other  day,  I  am  sorry  about  that  too.  I 
don't  know  exactly  why  I  did  it." 

The  King  still  held  his  hand,  but  he  said  nothing. 
There  were  many  things  he  wanted  to  say.  He  had 
gone  crooked  where  this  boy  must  go  straight.  He 
had  erred,  and  the  boy  must  avoid  his  errors.  He 
had  cherished  enmities,  and  in  his  age  they  cher 
ished  him.  And  now  — 

"May  I  ask  you  a  question,  sir?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"Will  you  tell  me  about  Abraham  Lincoln?" 

"Why?"  The  King  was  awake  enough  now.  He 
fixed  the  Crown  Prince  with  keen  eyes. 

"Well,  Miss  Braithwaite  does  not  care  for  him. 
She  says  he  was  not  a  great  man,  not  as  great  as  Mr. 
Gladstone,  anyhow.  But  Bobby  —  that's  the  boy  I 
met ;  I  told  you  about  him  —  he  says  he  was  the 
greatest  man  who  ever  lived." 

"And  who,"  asked  the  King,  "do  you  regard  as 
the  greatest  man?" 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  fidgeted,  but  he 
answered  bravely,  "You,  sir." 

"Humph!"  The  King  lay  still,  smiling  slightly. 
"Well,"  he  observed,  "there  are,  of  course,  other 
opinions  as  to  that.  However  —  Abraham  Lincoln 
was  a  very  great  man.  A  dreamer,  a  visionary,  but  a 
great  man.  You  might  ask  Miss  Braithwaite  to 
teach  you  his  'Gettysburg  Address.'  It  is  rather  a 


286  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

model  as  to  speech-making,  although  it  contains 
doctrines  that  —  well,  you'd  better  learn  it." 

He  smiled  again,  to  himself.  It  touched  his  ironic 
sense  of  humor  that  he,  who  had  devoted  his  life  to 
maintaining  that  all  men  are  not  free  and  equal, 
when  on  that  very  day  that  same  doctrine  of  liberty 
was  undermining  his  throne  —  that  he  should  be 
discussing  it  with  the  small  heir  to  that  throne. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto. 
He  hoped  it  was  not  very  long. 

"Otto,"  said  the  King  suddenly,  "do  you  ever 
look  at  your  father's  picture?" 

"Not  always." 

"You  might  —  look  at  it  now  and  then.  I 'd  like 
you  to  do  it." 

"Yes,  sir." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   GATE   OF   THE   MOON 

A  CURIOUS  friendship  had  sprung  up  between  old 
Adelbert  and  Bobby  Thorpe.  In  off  hours,  after 
school,  the  boy  hung  about  the  ticket-taker's  booth, 
swept  now  to  a  wonderful  cleanliness  and  adorned 
within  with  pictures  cut  from  the  illustrated  papers. 
The  small  charcoal  fire  was  Bobby's  particular  care. 
He  fed  and  watched  it,  and  having  heard  of  the  bale 
ful  effects  of  charcoal  fumes,  insisted  on  more  fresh 
air  than  old  Adelbert  had  ever  breathed  before. 

"You  see,"  Bobby  would  say  earnestly,  as  he 
brushed  away  at  the  floor  beneath  the  burner,  "you 
don't  know  that  you  are  being  asphyxiated.  You 
just  feel  drowsy,  and  then,  poof!  —  you're  dead." 

Adelbert,  dozing  between  tickets,  was  liable  to  be 
roused  by  a  vigorous  shaking,  to  a  pair  of  anxious 
eyes  gazing  at  him,  and  to  a  draft  of  chill  spring  air 
from  the  open  door. 

"I  but  dozed,"  he  would  explain,  without  anger. 
"All  my  life  have  I  breathed  the  fumes  and  nothing 
untoward  has  happened." 

Outwardly  he  was  peaceful.  The  daughter  now 
received  his  pension  in  full,  and  wrote  comforting 
letters.  But  his  resentment  and  bitterness  at  the  loss 
of  his  position  at  the  Opera  continued,  even  grew. 


288  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

For  while  he  had  now  even  a  greater  wage,  and 
could  eat  three  meals,  besides  second  breakfast  and 
afternoon  coffee,  down  deep  in  his  heart  old  Adel- 
bert  felt  that  he  had  lost  caste.  The  Opera  —  that 
was  a  setting!  Great  staircases  of  marble,  velvet 
hangings,  the  hush  before  the  overture,  and  over  all 
the  magic  and  dignity  of  music.  And  before  his  stall 
had  passed  and  repassed  the  world  —  royalties,  the 
aristocracy,  the  army.  Hoi  polloi  had  used  another 
entrance,  by  which  to  climb  to  the  upper  galleries. 
He  had  been,  then,  of  the  elect.  Aristocrats  who 
had  forgotten  their  own  opera-glasses  had  requested 
him  to  give  them  of  his  best,  had  through  long  years 
learned  to  know  him  there,  and  had  nodded  to  him 
as  they  swept  by.  The  flash  of  jewels  on  beauti 
ful  necks,  the  glittering  of  decorations  on  uni 
formed  chests,  had  been  his  life. 

And  now,  to  what  had  he  fallen !  To  selling  tickets 
for  an  American  catch-penny  scheme,  patronized  by 
butchers,  by  housemaids,  by  the  common  people  — 
a  noisy,  uproarious  crowd,  that  nevertheless  counted 
their  change  with  suspicious  eyes,  and  brought 
lunches  in  paper  boxes,  which  they  scattered  about. 

"Riff-raff!"  he  said  to  himself  scornfully. 

There  was,  however,  a  consolation.  He  had  ordered 
a  new  uniform.  Not  for  twenty  years  had  he  ven 
tured  the  extravagance,  and  even  now  his  cautious 
soul  quailed  at  the  price.  For  the  last  half-dozen 
years  he  had  stumped  through  the  streets,  painfully 
aware  of  shabbiness,  of  a  shiny  back,  of  patches, 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  MOON  289 

when,  on  the  anniversary  of  the  great  battle  to 
which  he  had  sacrificed  a  leg,  the  veterans  marched 
between  lines  of  cheering  people. 

Now,  on  this  approaching  anniversary,  he  could 
go  peacefully,  nay,  even  proudly.  The  uniform  was 
of  the  best  cloth,  and  on  its  second  fitting  showed 
already  its  marvel  of  tailoring.  The  news  of  it  had 
gone  around  the  neighborhood.  The  tailor  reported 
visits  from  those  who  would  feel  of  the  cloth,  and 
figure  its  expensiveness.  In  the  evening  —  for  he 
worked  only  until  seven  —  he  had  his  other  prepara 
tions  :  polishing  his  sword,  cleaning  his  accouterments. 

On  an  evening  a  week  before  the  parade  would 
occur,  he  got  out  his  boots.  He  bought  always  large 
boots  with  straight  soles,  the  right  not  much  differ 
ent  from  the  left  in  shape.  Thus  he  managed  thrift 
ily  to  wear,  on  his  one  leg,  first  one  of  the  pair,  then 
the  other.  But  they  were  both  worn  now,  and  be 
cause  of  the  cost  of  the  new  uniform,  he  could  not 
buy  others. 

Armed  with  the  better  of  the  two  he  visited  the 
cobbler's  shop,  and  there  met  with  bitter  news. 

"A  patch  here,  and  a  new  heel,  comrade,"  he  said. 
"With  that  and  a  polishing,  it  will  do  well  enough 
for  marching." 

The  usual  group  was  in  the  shop,  mostly  young 
men,  a  scattering  of  gray  heads.  The  advocates  of 
strange  doctrines,  most  of  them.  Old  Adelbert  dis 
approved  of  them,  regarded  them  with  a  sort  of 
contempt. 


290  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Now  he  felt  that  they  smiled  behind  his  back.  It 
was  his  clothing,  he  felt.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
disdainfully.  He  no  longer  felt  ashamed  before  them. 
Already,  although  the  tailor  still  pressed  its  seams 
and  marked  upon  it  with  chalk,  he  was  clad  in  the 
dignity  of  the  new  uniform. 

He  turned  and  nodded  to  them.  "  A  fine  evening," 
he  said.  "  If  this  weather  holds,  we  will  have  a  good 
day  for  the  marching."  He  squinted  a  faded  eye  at 
the  sky  outside. 

"What  marching?" 

Old  Adelbert  turned  on  the  speaker  sharply. 
"  Probably  you  have  forgotten,"  he  said  scornfully, 
"but  in  a  week  comes  an  anniversary  there  are  many 
who  will  remember.  The  day  of  a  great  battle.  Per 
haps,"  he  added,  "if  you  do  not  know  of  what  I 
speak,  there  are  some  here  who  will  tell  you." 

Unexpectedly  the  crowd  laughed. 

Old  Adelbert  flushed  a  dusky  red  and  drew  himself 
up.  "Since  when,"  he  demanded,  "does  such  a  speech 
bring  laughter?  It  was  no  laughing  matter  then." 

"It  is  the  way  of  the  old  to  live  in  the  past,"  a 
student  said.  Then,  imitating  old  Adelbert's  majes 
tic  tone:  "We,  we  live  in  the  future.  Eh,  comrades?" 
He  turned  to  the  old  soldier:  "You  have  not  seen 
the  bulletins?" 

"Bulletins?" 

"There  will  be  no  marching,  my  friend.   The  uni 
form  now  —  that  is  a  pity.    Perhaps  the  tailor  — " 
His  eyes  mocked. 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  MOON  291 

"No  marching?" 

"An  order  of  the  Council.  It  seems  that  the  city 
is  bored  by  these  ancient  reminders.  It  is  for  peace, 
and  would  forget  wars.  And  processions  are  costly. 
We  grow  thrifty.  Bands  and  fireworks  cost  money, 
and  money,  my  hero,  is  scarce  —  very  scarce." 

Again  the  group  laughed. 

After  a  time  he  grasped  the  truth.  There  was  such 
an  order.  The  cause  was  given  as  the  King's  illness. 

"Since  when,"  demanded  old  Adelbert  angrily, 
"has  the  sound  of  his  soldiers'  marching  disturbed 
the  King?" 

"The  sound  of  wooden  legs  annoys  him,"  observed 
the  mocking  student,  lighting  a  cigarette.  "He 
would  hear  only  pleasant  sounds,  such  as  the  noise 
of  tax-money  pouring  into  his  vaults.  Me  —  I  can 
think  of  a  pleasanter:  the  tolling  of  the  cathedral 
bell,  at  a  certain  time,  will  be  music  to  my  ears!" 

Old  Adelbert  stood,  staring  blindly  ahead.  At 
last  he  went  out  into  the  street,  muttering.  "They 
shame  us  before  the  people,"  he  said  thickly. 

The  order  of  the  Council  had  indeed  been  issued, 
a  painful  business  over  which  Mettlich  and  the 
Council  had  pondered  long.  For,  in  the  state  of 
things,  it  was  deemed  unwise  to  permit  any  gather 
ing  of  the  populace  en  masse.  Mobs  lead  to  riots, 
and  riots  again  to  mobs.  Five  thousand  armed  men, 
veterans,  but  many  of  them  in  their  prime,  were  in 
themselves  a  danger.  And  on  these  days  of  anniver 
sary  it  had  been  the  custom  of  the  University  to 


292  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

march  also,  a  guard  of  honor.  Sedition  was  rife 
among  the  students. 

The  order  was  finally  issued. 

Old  Adelbert  was  not  keen,  but  he  did  not  lack 
understanding.  And  one  thing  he  knew,  and  knew 
well.  The  concierge  downstairs  was  no  patriot. 
Time  had  been  when,  over  coffee  and  bread,  he  had 
tried  to  instill  in  the  old  soldier  his  own  discontent, 
his  new  theories  of  a  land  where  all  were  equal  and 
no  man  king.  He  had  hinted  of  many  who  believed 
as  he  did.  Only  hints,  because  old  Adelbert  had 
raised  a  trembling  hand  and  proclaimed  treason. 

But  now? 

Late  in  the  evening  he  made  his  resolve,  and  vis 
ited  the  bureau  of  the  concierge.  He  was  away, 
however,  and  his  niece  spoke  through  the  barred 
window. 

"Two  days,  or  perhaps  three,"  she  said.  "He  is 
inspecting  a  farm  in  the  country,  with  a  view  to 
purchase." 

The  old  soldier  had  walked  by  the  Palace  that 
night,  and  had  again  shaken  his  fist  at  its  looming 
shadow.  "You  will  see,"  he  said,  "there  be  other 
sounds  more  painful  than  the  thump  of  a  wooden 
leg!" 

He  was  ill  that  night.  He  tossed  about  in  a  fever. 
His  body  ached,  even  the  leg  which  so  long  ago  had 
mouldered  in  its  shallow  grave  on  a  battle-field.  For 
these  things  happen.  By  morning  he  was  better, 
but  he  was  a  different  man.  His  eyes  glowed.  His 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  MOON  293 

body  twitched.  He  was  stronger,  too,  for  now  he 
broke  his  sword  across  his  knee,  and  flung  the  pieces 
out  of  the  window.  And  with  them  went  the  last 
fragment  of  his  old  loyalty  to  his  King. 

Old  Adelbert  was  now,  potentially,  a  traitor. 

The  spring  came  early  that  year.  The  last  of 
February  saw  the  parks  green.  Snowdrops  appeared 
in  the  borders  of  paths.  The  swans  left  their  wooden 
houses  and  drifted  about  in  water  much  colder  than 
the  air.  Bobby  abandoned  the  aeroplane  for  a  kite 
and  threw  it  aloft  from  Pike's  Peak.  At  night,  when 
he  undressed,  marbles  spilled  out  of  his  pockets  and 
rolled  under  the  most  difficult  furniture.  Although 
it  was  still  cold  at  nights  and  in  the  early  mornings, 
he  abandoned  the  white  sweater  and  took  to  looking 
for  birds  and  nests  in  the  trees  of  the  park.  It  was, 
of  course,  much  too  early  for  nests,  but  nevertheless 
he  searched,  convinced  that  even  if  grown-ups  talked 
wisely  of  more  cold  weather,  he  and  the  birds  knew 
it  was  spring.  And,  of  course,  the  snow-drops. 

On  the  morning  after  old  Adelbert  had  turned  his 
back  on  his  King,  Bobby  Thorpe  rose  early,  so  early, 
indeed,  that  even  Pepy  still  slept  in  her  narrow  bed, 
and  the  milk-sellers  had  not  started  on  their  rounds. 
The  early  rising  was  a  mistake,  owing  to  a  watch 
which  had  strangely  gained  an  hour. 

Somewhat  disconsolately,  he  wandered  about. 
Heavy  quiet  reigned.  From  a  window  he  watched 
the  meat-seller  hang  out  a  freshly  killed  deer,  just 
brought  from  the  mountains.  He  went  downstairs 


294  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

and  out  on  the  street,  past  the  niece  of  the  concierge, 
who  was  scrubbing  the  stairs. 

"I'm  going  for  a  walk,"  he  told  her.  "If  they 
send  Pepy  down  you  might  tell  her  I  '11  be  back  for 
breakfast." 

He  stood  for  a  time  surveying  the  deer.  Then  he 
decided  to  go  hunting  himself.  The  meat-seller 
obligingly  gave  him  the  handle  of  a  floor-brush,  and 
with  this  improvised  gun  Bobby  went  deer-stalking. 
He  turned  into  the  Park,  going  stealthily,  and 
searching  the  landscape  with  keen  hunter's  eyes. 
Once  or  twice  he  leveled  his  weapon,  killed  a  deer, 
cut  off  the  head,  and  went  on.  His  dog  trotted  at  his 
heels.  When  a  particularly  good  shot  presented  it 
self,  Bobby  said,  "Down,  Tucker,"  and  Tucker, 
who  played  extremely  well,  would  lie  down,  ears 
cocked,  until  the  quarry  was  secured. 

Around  the  old  city  gate,  still  standing  although 
the  wall  of  which  it  had  been  a  part  was  gone,  there 
was  excellent  hunting.  Here  they  killed  and  skinned 
a  bear,  took  fine  ivory  tusks  from  a  dead  elephant, 
and  searched  for  the  trail  of  a  tiger. 

The  gate  was  an  excellent  place  for  a  tiger.  Around 
it  was  planted  an  almost  impenetrable  screen  of 
evergreens,  so  thick  that  the  ground  beneath  was 
quite  bare  of  grass.  Here  the  two  hunters  crawled 
on  stomachs  that  began  to  feel  a  trifle  empty,  and 
here  they  happened  on  the  trail. 

Tucker  found  it  first.  His  stumpy  tail  grew  rigid. 
Nose  to  the  ground,  he  crawled  and  wriggled  through 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  MOON  295 

the  undergrowth,  Bobby  at  his  heels.  And  now 
Bobby  saw  the  trail,  footprints.  It  is  true  that  they 
resembled  those  of  heavy  boots  with  nails.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  no  one  could  say  surely  that  the 
nail-marks  were  not  those  of  claws. 

Tucker  circled  about.  The  trail  grew  more  excit 
ing.  Bobby  had  to  crawl  on  hands  and  feet  under 
and  through  thickets.  Branches  had  been  broken 
as  by  the  passage  of  some  large  body.  The  sports 
man  clutched  his  weapon  and  went  on. 

An  hour  later  the  two  hunters  returned  for  break 
fast.  Washing  did  something  to  restore  the  leader 
to  a  normal  appearance,  but  a  wondering  family 
discovered  him  covered  with  wounds  and  strangely 
silent. 

"Why,  Bob,  where  have  you  been?"  his  mother 
demanded.  "Why,  I  never  saw  so  many  scratches! " 

"I've  been  hunting,"  he  replied  briefly.  "They 
don't  hurt  anyhow." 

Then  he  relapsed  into  absorbed  silence.  His 
mother,  putting  cream  on  his  cereal,  placed  an 
experienced  hand  on  his  forehead.  "Are  you  sure 
you  feel  well,  dear?"  she  asked.  " I  think  your  head 
is  a  little  hot." 

"I'm  all  right,  mother." 

She  was  wisely  silent,  but  she  ran  over  in  her 
mind  the  spring  treatment  for  children  at  home. 
The  blood,  she  felt,  should  be  thinned  after  a  winter 
of  sausages  and  rich  cocoa.  She  mentally  searched 
her  medicine  case. 


296  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

A  strange  thing  happened  that  day.  A  broken 
plate  disappeared  from  the  upper  shelf  of  a  closet, 
where  Pepy  had  hidden  it ;  also  a  cup  with  a  nick  in 
it,  similarly  concealed;  also  the  heel  of  a  loaf  of 
bread.  Nor  was  that  the  end.  For  three  days  a  sort 
of  magic  reigned  in  Pepy's  kitchen.  Ten  potatoes, 
laid  out  to  peel,  became  eight.  Matches  and  two 
ends  of  candle  walked  out,  as  it  were,  on  their  own 
feet.  A  tin  pan  with  a  hole  in  it  left  the  kitchen-table 
and  was  discovered  hiding  in  Bobby's  bureau,  when 
the  Fraulein  put  away  the  washing. 

On  the  third  day  Mrs.  Thorpe  took  her  husband 
into  their  room  and  closed  the  door. 

" Bob,"  she  said,  "I  don't  want  to  alarm  you.  But 
there  is  something  wrong  with  Bobby." 

"Sick,  you  mean?" 

"I  don't  know."  Her  voice  was  worried.  "He's 
not  a  bit  like  himself.  He  is  always  away,  for  one 
thing.  And  he  hardly  eats  at  all." 

"He  looks  well  enough  nourished!" 

"And  he  comes  home  covered  with  mud.  I  have 
never  seen  his  clothes  in  such  condition.  And  last 
night,  when  he  wras  bathing,  I  went  into  the  bath 
room.  He  is  covered  with  scratches." 

"Now  see  here,  mother,"  the  hunter's  father  pro 
tested,  "you're  the  parent  of  a  son,  a  perfectly 
hardy,  healthy,  and  normal  youngster,  with  an 
imagination.  Probably  he's  hunting  Indians.  I  saw 
him  in  the  Park  yesterday  with  his  air-rifle.  Any 
how,  just  stop  worrying  and  let  him  alone.  A  scratch 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  MOON  297 

or  two  won't  hurt  him.  And  as  to  his  not  eating, 
well,  if  he's  not  eating  at  home  he's  getting  food 
somewhere,  I  '11  bet  you  a  hat." 

So  Bobby  was  undisturbed,  save  that  the  gov 
erness  protested  that  he  heard  nothing  she  told  him, 
and  was  absent-minded  at  his  lessons.  But  as  she 
was  always  protesting  about  something,  no  one  paid 
any  attention.  Bobby  drew  ahead  on  his  pocket 
allowance  without  question,  and  as  his  birthday  was 
not  far  off,  asked  for  "the  dollar  to  grow  on"  in 
advance.  He  always  received  a  dollar  for  each  year, 
which  went  into  the  bank,  and  a  dollar  to  grow  on, 
which  was  his  own  to  spend. 

With  the  dollar  he  made  a  number  of  purchases  — 
candles  and  candlestick,  a  toy  pistol  and  caps,  one 
of  the  masks  for  the  Carnival,  now  displayed  in  all 
the  windows,  a  kitchen-knife,  wooden  plates,  and  a 
piece  of  bacon. 

Now  and  then  he  appeared  at  the  Scenic  Railway, 
abstracted  and  viewing  with  a  calculating  eye  the 
furnishings  of  the  engine-room  and  workshop.  From 
there  disappeared  a  broken  chair,  a  piece  of  old  car 
pet,  discarded  from  a  car,  and  a  large  padlock,  but 
the  latter  he  asked  for  and  obtained. 

His  occasional  visits  to  the  Railway,  however, 
found  him  in  old  Adelbert's  shack.  He  filled  his 
pockets  with  charcoal  from  the  pail  beside  the  stove, 
and  made  cautious  inquiries  as  to  methods  of  cooking 
potatoes.  But  the  pall  of  old  Adelbert's  gloom  pen 
etrated  at  last  even  through  the  boy's  abstraction. 


298  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"I  hope  your  daughter  is  not  worse,"  he  said 
politely,  during  one  of  his  visits  to  the  ticket-booth. 

"She  is  well.   She  recovers  strength  rapidly." 

"And  the  new  uniform  —  does  it  fit  you?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  old  Adelbert  grimly.  "I 
have  not  seen  it  recently." 

"On  the  day  of  the  procession  we  are  all  going  to 
watch  for  you.  I  '11  tell  you  where  we  will  be,  so  you 
can  look  for  us." 

"There  will  be  no  procession." 

Then  to  the  boy  old  Adelbert  poured  out  the  bit 
terness  of  his  soul.  He  showed  where  he  had  torn 
down  the  King's  picture,  and  replaced  it  with  one  of 
a  dying  stag.  He  reviewed  his  days  in  the  hospital, 
and  the  hardships  through  which  he  had  passed,  to 
come  to  this.  The  King  had  forgotten  his  brave  men. 

Bobby  listened.  "Pretty  soon  there  won't  be  any 
kings,"  he  observed.  "My  father  says  so.  They're 
out  of  date." 

"Aye,"  said  old  Adelbert. 

"It  would  be  kind  of  nice  if  you  had  a  president. 
Then,  if  he  acted  up,  you  could  put  him  out." 

"Aye,"  said  old  Adelbert  again. 

During  the  rest  of  the  day  Bobby  considered.  No 
less  a  matter  than  the  sharing  of  a  certain  secret 
occupied  his  mind.  Now,  half  the  pleasure  of  a  secret 
is  sharing  it,  naturally,  but  it  should  be  with  the 
right  person.  And  his  old  playfellow  was  changed. 
Bobby,  reflecting,  wondered  whether  old  Adelbert 
would  really  care  to  join  his  pirate  crew,  consisting 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  MOON  299 

of  Tucker  and  himself.  On  the  next  day,  however, 
he  put  the  matter  to  the  test,  having  resolved  that 
old  Adelbert  needed  distraction  and  cheering. 

"You  know,"  he  said,  talking  through  the  win 
dow  of  the  booth,  "I  think  when  I  grow  up  I '11  be  a 
pirate." 

"There  be  worse  trades,"  said  old  Adelbert,  whose 
hand  was  now  against  every  man. 

"And  hide  treasure,"  Bobby  went  on.  "In  a  —  in 
a  cave,  you  know.  Did  you  ever  read  'Treasure 
Island'?" 

"I  may  have  forgotten  it.  I  have  read  many 
things." 

"You'd  hardly  forget  it.    You  know  — 

" '  Fifteen  men  on  a  dead  man's  chest 
Yo-ho-ho  and  a  bottle  of  rum.'  " 

Old  Adelbert  rather  doubted  the  possibility  of 
fifteen  men  on  one  dead  man's  chest,  but  he  nodded 
gravely.  "A  spirited  song,"  he  observed. 

Bobby  edged  closer  to  the  window.  " I've  got  the 
cave  already." 

"So!" 

"Here,  in  the  Park.  It  is  a  great  secret.  I'd  like 
to  show  it  to  you.  Only  it's  rather  hard  to  get  to. 
I  don't  know  whether  you'd  care  to  crawl  through 
the  bushes  to  it." 

"A  cave  —  here  in  the  Park?" 

"  I  '11  take  you,  if  you'd  like  to  see  it." 

Old  Adelbert  was  puzzled.   The  Park  offered,  so 


300  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

far  as  he  knew,  no  place  for  a  cave.  It  was  a  plain, 
the  site  of  the  old  wall,  and  now  planted  in  grass 
and  flowers.  He  himself  had  seen  it  graded  and  sown. 
A  cave! 

"Where?" 

"That's  a  secret.  But  I '11  show  it  to  you,  if  you 
won't  tell." 

Old  Adelbert  agreed  to  silence.  In  fact,  he  re 
peated  after  the  boy,  in  English  he  did  not  under 
stand,  a  most  blood-curdling  oath  of  secrecy,  and 
made  the  pirate  sign  —  which,  as  every  one  knows,  is 
a  skull  and  crossbones  —  in  the  air  with  his  fore 
finger. 

"This  cave,"  he  said,  half  smiling,  "must  be  a 
most  momentous  matter!" 

Until  midday,  when  the  Railway  opened  for  busi 
ness,  the  old  soldier  was  free.  So  the  next  morning, 
due  precautions  having  been  taken,  the  two  con 
spirators  set  off.  Three,  rather,  for  Tucker,  too,  was 
now  of  the  band  of  the  black  flag,  having  been  taken 
in  with  due  formality  a  day  or  two  before,  and  be 
having  well  and  bravely  during  the  rather  trying 
rites  of  initiation. 

Outside  the  thicket  Bobby  hesitated.  "I  ought 
to  blindfold  you,"  he  said.  "  But  I  guess  you  '11  need 
your  eyes.  It's  a  hard  place  to  get  to." 

Perhaps,  had  he  known  the  difficulties  ahead,  old 
Adelbert  would  not  have  gone  on.  And,  had  he 
turned  back  then,  the  history  of  a  certain  kingdom 
of  Europe  would  have  been  changed.  Maps,  too, 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  MOON  301 

and  schoolbooks,  and  the  life-story  of  a  small  Prince. 
But  he  went  on.  Stronger  than  his  young  guide,  he 
did  not  crawl,  but  bent  aside  the  stiff  and  ungainly 
branches  of  the  firs.  He  battled  with  the  thicket,  and 
came  out  victorious.  He  was  not  so  old,  then,  or 
so  feeble.  His  arm  would  have  been  strong  for  the 
King,  had  not  — 

"There  it  is!"  cried  Bobby. 

Not  a  cave,  it  appeared  at  first.  A  low  doorway, 
barred  with  an  iron  grating,  and  padlocked.  A  door 
way  in  the  base  of  a  side  wall  of  the  gate,  and  so 
heaped  with  leaves  that  its  lower  half  was  covered. 

Bobby  produced  a  key.  "I  broke  the  padlock 
that  was  on  it,"  he  explained.  "I  smashed  it  with  a 
stone.  But  I  got  another.  I  always  lock  it." 

Prolonged  search  produced  the  key.  Old  Adel- 
bert's  face  was  set  hard.  On  what  dungeon  had  this 
boy  stumbled?  He  himself  had  lived  there  many 
years,  and  of  no  such  aperture  had  he  heard  men 
tion.  It  was  strange. 

Bobby  was  removing  the  leaf-mould  with  his 
hands.  "It  was  almost  all  covered  when  I  found  it," 
he  said,  industriously  scraping.  "I  generally  close  it 
up  like  this  when  I  leave.  It's  a  good  place  for 
pirates,  don't  you  think?" 

"Excellent!" 

"I've  brought  some  things  already.  The  lock's 
rusty.  There  it  goes.  There  are  rats.  I  hope  you 
don't  mind  rats." 

The  door  swung  in,  silently,  as  though  the  hinges 


302  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

had  been  recently  oiled;  as  indeed  they  had,  but 
not  by  the  boy. 

" It's  rather  dirty,"  he  explained.  "You  go  down 
steps  first.  Be  very  careful." 

He  extended  an  earthy  hand  and  led  the  old  man 
down.  "It's  dark  here,  but  there's  a  room  below; 
quite  a  good  room.  And  I  have  candles." 

Truly  a  room.  Built  of  old  brick,  and  damp,  but 
with  a  free  circulation  of  air.  Old  Adelbert  stared 
about  him.  It  was  not  entirely  dark.  A  bit  of  light 
entered  from  the  aperture  at  the  head  of  the  steps. 
By  it,  even  before  Bobby  had  lighted  his  candle,  he 
saw  the  broken  chair,  the  piece  of  old  carpet,  and 
the  odds  and  ends  the  child  had  brought. 

"I  cook  down  here  sometimes,"  said  Bobby, 
struggling  with  matches  that  had  felt  the  damp. 
"But  it  is  very  smoky.  I  should  like  to  have  a  stove. 
You  don't  know  where  I  can  get  a  second-hand 
stove,  do  you?  —  with  a  long  pipe?" 

Old  Adelbert  felt  curiously  shaken.  "None  have 
visited  this  place  since  you  have  been  here?"  he 
asked. 

"I  don't  suppose  any  one  knows  about  it.  Do 
you?" 

"Those  who  built  it,  perhaps.  But  it  is  old,  very 
old.  It  is  possible  — " 

He  stopped,  lost  in  speculation.  There  had  been 
a  story  once  of  a  passageway  under  the  wall,  but  he 
recollected  nothing  clearly.  A  passageway  leading 
out  beyond  the  wall,  through  which,  in  a  great  siege, 


THE  GATE  OF  THE   MOON  303 

a  messenger  had  been  sent  for  help.  But  that  was 
of  a  passage;  while  this  was  a  dungeon. 

The  candle  was  at  last  lighted.  It  burned  fitfully, 
illuminating  only  a  tiny  zone  in  the  darkness. 

"I  need  a  lantern,"  Bobby  observed.  "There's 
a  draft  here.  It  comes  from  the  other  grating. 
Sometime,  when  you  have  time,  I'd  like  to  see 
what's  beyond  it.  I  was  kind  of  nervous  about  go 
ing  alone." 

It  was  the  old  passage,  then,  of  course.  Old  Adel- 
bert  stared  as  Bobby  took  the  candle  and  held  it 
toward  a  second  grated  door,  like  the  first,  but  taller. 

"There  are  rats  there,"  he  said.  "I  can  hear  them ; 
about  a  million,  I  guess.  They  ate  all  the  bread 
and  bacon  I  left.  Tucker  can  get  through.  He  must 
have  killed  a  lot  of  them." 

"Lend  me  your  candle." 

A  close  examination  revealed  to  old  Adelbert  two 
things:  First,  that  a  brick-lined  passage,  apparently 
in  good  repair,  led  beyond  the  grating.  Second,  that 
it  had  been  recently  put  in  order.  A  spade  and 
wheelbarrow,  both  unmistakably  of  recent  make, 
stood  just  beyond,  the  barrow  full  of  bricks,  as 
though  fallen  ones  had  been  gathered  up.  Further, 
the  padlock  had  been  freshly  oiled,  and  the  hinges 
of  the  grating.  No  unused  passage  this,  but  one 
kept  in  order  and  repair.  For  what? 

Bobby  had  adjusted  the  mask  and  thrust  the 
knife  through  the  belt  of  his  Norfolk  jacket.  Now, 
folding  his  arms,  he  recited  fiercely,  — 


304  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

' '  Fifteen  men  on  a  dead  man's  chest. 
Yo-ho-ho  and  a  bottle  of  rum ! ' ' 

"A  spirited  song,"  observed  old  Adelbert,  as  be 
fore.  But  his  eyes  were  on  the  grating. 

That  evening  Adelbert  called  to  see  his  friend,  the 
locksmith  in  the  University  Place.  He  possessed, 
he  said,  a  padlock  of  which  he  had  lost  the  key,  and 
which,  being  fastened  .to  a  chest,  he  was  unable  to 
bring  with  him.  A  large  and  heavy  padlock,  per 
haps  the  size  of  his  palm. 

When  he  left,  he  carried  with  him  a  bundle  of 
keys,  tied  in  a  brown  paper. 

But  he  did  not  go  back  to  his  chest.  He  went 
instead  to  the  thicket  around  the  old  gate,  which 
was  still  termed  the  "Gate  of  the  Moon,"  and  there, 
armed  with  a  lantern,  pursued  his  investigations 
during  a  portion  of  the  night. 

When  he  had  finished,  old  Adelbert,  veteran  of 
many  wars,  one-time  patriot  and  newly  turned 
traitor,  held  in  his  shaking  hands  the  fate  of  the 
kingdom. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

AT   THE   INN 

THE  Countess  Loschek  was  on  her  way  across  the 
border.  The  arrangements  were  not  of  her  making. 
Her  plan,  which  had  been  to  go  afoot  across  the 
mountain  to  the  town  of  Ar-on-Ar,  and  there  to  hire 
a  motor,  had  been  altered  by  the  arrival  at  the 
castle,  shortly  after  the  permission  was  given,  of  a 
machine.  So  short  an  interval,  indeed,  had  elapsed 
that  she  concluded,  with  reason,  that  this  car  now 
placed  at  her  disposal  was  the  one  which  had 
brought  that  permission. 

"The  matter  of  passports  for  the  border  is  ar 
ranged,  madame,"  Black  Humbert  told  her. 

"I  have  my  own  passports,"  she  said  proudly. 

"They  will  not  be  necessary." 

"I  will  have  this  interview  at  my  destination 
alone,  or  not  at  all." 

He  drew  himself  to  his  great  height  and  regarded 
her  with  cold  eyes.  "As  you  wish,"  he  said.  "But 
it  is  probably  not  necessary  to  remind  madame  that, 
whatever  is  discussed  at  this  meeting,  no  word  must 
be  mentioned  of  the  Committee,  or  its  plans." 

Although  he  made  no  threat,  she  had  shivered. 
No,  there  must  be  no  word  of  the  Committee,  or  of 
the  terror  that  drove  her  to  Karl.  For,  if  the  worst 


306  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

happened,  if  he  failed  her,  and  she  must  do  the  thing 
they  had  set  her  to  do,  Karl  must  never  know. 
That  card  she  must  play  alone. 

So  she  was  not  even  to  use  her  own  passports! 
Making  her  hasty  preparations,  again  the  Countess 
marveled.  Was  there  no  limit  to  the  powers  of  the 
Committee  of  Ten  ?  Apparently  the  whole  machinery 
of  the  Government  was  theirs  to  command.  Who 
were  they,  these  men  who  had  sat  there  immobile 
behind  their  masks?  Did  she  meet  any  of  them  daily 
in  the  Palace?  Were  the  eyes  that  had  regarded  her 
with  unfriendly  steadiness  that  night  in  the  cata 
combs,  eyes  that  smiled  at  her  day  by  day,  in  the 
very  halls  of  the  King?  Had  any  of  those  shrouded 
and  menacing  figures  bent  over  her  hand  with 
mocking  suavity?  She  wondered. 

A  hasty  preparation  at  the  last  it  was,  indeed, 
but  a  careful  toilet  had  preceded  it.  Now  that  she 
was  about  to  see  Karl  again,  after  months  of  sepa 
ration,  he  must  find  no  flaw  in  her.  She  searched 
her  mirror  for  the  ravages  of  the  past  few  days,  and 
found  them.  Yet,  appraising  herself  with  cold  eyes, 
she  felt  she  was  still  beautiful.  The  shadows  about 
her  eyes  did  not  dim  them. 

Everything  hung  on  the  result  of  her  visit.  If 
Karl  persisted,  if  he  would  marry  Hedwig  in  spite 
of  the  trouble  it  would  precipitate,  then  indeed  she 
was  lost.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  inclined  to 
peace,  if  her  story  of  a  tottering  throne  held  his 
hand,  she  would  defy  the  Committee  of  Ten.  Karl 


AT  THE  INN  307 

himself  would  help  her  to  escape,  might  indeed  hide 
her.  It  would  not  be  for  long.  Without  Karl's  sup 
port  the  King's  death  would  bring  the  Terrorists 
into  control.  They  would  have  other  things  to  do 
than  to  hunt  her  out.  Their  end  would  be  gained 
without  her.  Let  them  steal  the  Crown  Prince,  then. 
Let  Hedwig  fight  for  her  throne  and  lose  it.  Let  the 
streets  run  deep  with  blood  and  all  the  pande 
monium  of  hell  break  loose. 

But  if  Karl  failed  her? 

Even  here  was  the  possibility  of  further  mis 
chance.  Suppose  the  boy  gone,  and  the  people  yet 
did  not  rise?  Suppose  then  that  Hedwig,  by  her 
very  agency,  gained  the  throne  and  held  it.  Hed 
wig,  Queen  of  Livonia  in  her  own  right,  and  Karl's 
wife! 

She  clenched  her  teeth. 

Over  country  roads  the  machine  jolted  and 
bumped.  At  daybreak  they  had  not  yet  reached  the 
border.  In  a  narrow  lane  they  encountered  a  pilgrim 
age  of  mountain  folk,  bent  for  the  shrine  at  Etzel. 
The  peasants  drew  aside  to  let  the  machine  pass,  and 
stared  at  it.  They  had  been  traveling  afoot  all  night, 
and  yet  another  day  and  a  night  would  elapse  before 
they  could  kneel  in  the  church. 

"A  great  lady,"  said  one,  a  man  who  carried  a 
sleeping  child  in  his  arms. 

"Perhaps,"  said  a  young  girl,  "she  too  has  made 
a  pilgrimage.  All  go  to  Etzel,  the  poor  and  the  rich. 
And  all  receive  grace." 


3o8  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

The  Countess  did  not  sleep.  She  was,  with  every 
fiber  of  her  keen  brain,  summoning  her  arguments. 
She  would  need  them,  for  she  knew  —  none  better 
-  how  great  a  handicap  was  hers.  She  loved  Karl, 
and  he  knew  it.  What  had  been  her  strength  had 
become  her  weakness. 

Yet  she  was  composed  enough  when,  before  the 
sun  was  well  up,  the  machine  drew  up  in  the  village 
before  the  inn  where  Mettlich  had  spent  his  uneasy 
hours. 

Her  heavy  veils  aroused  the  curiosity  of  the  land 
lord.  When,  shortly  after,  his  daughter  brought 
down  a  letter  to  be  sent  at  once  to  the  royal  hunting- 
lodge,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  a  veiled  woman  had  come  to  his  inn  under 
similar  circumstances.  After  all,  great  people  are 
but  human.  One  cannot  always  be  a  king. 

The  Countess  breakfasted  in  her  room.  The  land 
lord  served  her  himself,  and  narrowly  inspected  her. 
She  was  not  so  young  as  he  had  hoped,  but  she  was 
beautiful.  And  haughty.  A  very  great  person,  he 
decided,  incognito. 

The  King  was  hunting,  he  volunteered.  There 
were  great  doings  at  the  lodge.  Perhaps  Her  Excel 
lency  would  be  proceeding  there. 

She  eyed  him  stonily,  and  then  sent  him  off  about 
his  business. 

So  all  the  day  she  ate  her  heart  out  in  her  bare 
room.  Now  and  then  the  clear  sound  of  bugles 
reached  her,  but  she  saw  no  hunters.  Karl  followed 


AT  THE  INN  309 

the  chase  late  that  day.  It  was  evening  before  she 
saw  the  tired  horses  straggling  through  the  village 
streets.  Her  courage  was  oozing  by  that  time.  What 
more  could  she  say  than  what  he  already  knew? 
Many  agencies  other  than  hers  kept  him  informed 
of  the  state  of  affairs  in  Livonia.  A  bitter  thought, 
this,  for  it  showed  Karl  actuated  by  love  of  Hedwig, 
and  not  by  greed  of  power.  She  feared  that  more 
than  she  feared  death. 

She  had  expected  to  go  to  the  lodge,  but  at  nine 
o'clock  that  night  Karl  came  to  her,  knocking  at  the 
door  of  her  room  and  entering  without  waiting  for 
permission. 

The  room  was  small  and  cozy  with  firelight.  Her 
scarlet  cloak,  flung  over  a  chair,  made  a  dash  of 
brilliant  color.  Two  lighted  candles  on  a  high  carved 
chest,  and  between  them  a  plaster  figure  of  the 
Mother  and  Child,  a  built-in  bed  with  white  curtains 
—  that  was  the  room. 

Before  the  open  fire  Olga  Loschek  sat  in  her  low 
chair.  She  wore  still  her  dark  traveling  dress;  and  a 
veil,  ready  to  be  donned  at  the  summons  of  a  mes 
sage  from  Karl,  trailed  across  her  knee.  In  the  fire 
light  she  looked  very  young  —  young  and  weary. 
Karl,  who  had  come  hardened  to  a  scene,  found  her 
appealing,  almost  pathetic. 

She  rose  at  his  entrance  and,  after  a  moment  of 
surprise,  smiled  faintly.  But  she  said  nothing,  nor 
did  Karl,  until  he  had  lifted  one  of  her  cold  hands, 
and  brushed  it  with  his  lips. 


3io  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"Well!  "he  said.    "And  again,  Olga!"         .-, 

"Once  again." 

She  looked  up  at  him.  Yes,  he  was  changed.  The 
old  Karl  would  have  taken  her  in  his  arms.  This 
new  Karl  was  urbane,  smiling,  uneasy. 

He  said  nothing.  He  was  apparently  waiting  for  her 
to  make  the  first  move.  But  she  did  not  help  him. 
She  sat  down  and  he  drew  a  small  chair  to  the  fire. 

"There  is  nothing  wrong,  is  there?"  he  said. 
"Your  note  alarmed  me.  Not  the  note,  but  your 
coming  here." 

"  Nothing  —  and  everything."  She  felt  suddenly 
very  tired.  Her  very  voice  was  weary.  "  I  sent 
you  a  letter  asking  you  to  come  to  the  castle. 
There  were  things  to  discuss,  and  I  did  not  care 
to  take  this  risk  of  coming  here." 

"I  received  no  letter." 

"No!"  She  knew  it,  of  course,  but  she  pretended 
surprise,  a  carefully  suppressed  alarm. 

"I  have  what  I  am  afraid  is  bad  news,  Olga.  The 
letter  was  taken.  I  received  only  a  sheet  of  blank 
paper." 

"Karl ! "   She  leaped  to  her  feet. 

She  was  no  mean  actress.  And  behind  it  all  was 
her  real  terror,  greater,  much  greater,  than  he  could 
know.  Whatever  design  she  had  on  Karl's  pity,  she 
was  only  acting  at  the  beginning.  Deadly  peril  was 
clutching  her,  a  double  peril,  of  the  body  and  of  the 
soul. 

"Taken!   By  whom?" 


AT  THE  INN  311 

"By  some  one  you  know  —  young  Larisch." 

"Larisch!"  No  acting  there.  In  sheer  amaze 
ment  she  dropped  back  from  him,  staring  with  wide 
eyes.  Nikky  Larisch !  Then  how  had  the  Terrorists 
got  it?  Was  all  the  world  in  their  employ? 

"But  —  it  is  impossible!" 

"I'm  sorry,  Olga.  But  even  then  there  is  some 
thing  to  be  explained.  We  imprisoned  him  —  we  got 
him  in  a  trap,  rather  by  accident.  He  maintained 
that  he  had  not  made  away  with  the  papers.  A 
mystery,  all  of  it.  Only  your  man,  Niburg,  could 
explain,  and  he  - 

"Yes?" 

"I  am  afraid  he  will  never  explain,  Olga." 

Then  indeed  horror  had  its  way  with  her.  Niburg 
executed  as  a  spy,  after  making  who  knew  what 
confession !  What  then  awaited  her  at  the  old  castle 
above  the  church  at  Etzel?  Karl,  seeing  her  whiten 
ing  lips,  felt  a  stirring  of  pity.  His  passion  for  her 
was  dead,  but  for  a  long  time  he  had  loved  her,  and 
now,  in  sheer  regret,  he  drew  her  to  him. 

"Poor  girl,"  he  said  softly.  "Poor  girl!"  And 
drew  his  hand  gently  over  her  hair. 

She  shivered  at  his  touch.  "I  can  never  go  back," 
she  said  brokenly. 

But  at  that  he  freed  her.  "That  would  be  to  con 
fess  before  you  are  accused,"  he  reminded  her.  "We 
do  not  know  that  Niburg  told.  He  was  doomed  any 
how.  To  tell  would  help  nothing.  The  letter,  of 
course,  was  in  code?" 


312  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"Yes." 

She  sat  down  again,  fighting  for  composure. 

"I  am  not  very  brave,"  she  said.  "It  was  unex 
pected.  In  a  moment  I  shall  be  calmer.  You  must 
not  think  that  I  regret  the  risk.  I  have  always  been 
proud  to  do  my  best  for  you."  • 

That  touched  him.  In  the  firelight,  smiling  wanly 
at  him,  she  was  very  like  the  girl  who  had  attracted 
him  years  before.  Her  usual  smiling  assurance  was 
gone.  She  looked  sad,  appealing.  And  she  was  right. 
She  had  always  done  her  best  for  him.  But  he  was 
cautious,  too. 

"I  owe  you  more  than  I  can  tell  you,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  the  sort  of  debt  that  can  never  be  paid.  Your 
coming  here  was  a  terrible  risk.  Something  urgent 
must  have  brought  you." 

She  pushed  back  her  heavy  hair  restlessly. 

"  I  was  anxious.  And  there  were  things  I  felt  you 
should  know." 

"What  things?" 

"The  truth  about  the  King's  condition,  for  one. 
He  is  dying.  The  bulletins  lie.  He  is  no  better." 

"Why  should  the  bulletins  lie?  " 

"Because  there  is  a  crisis.  You  know  it.  But  you 
cannot  know  what  we  know  —  the  living  in  fear, 
the  precautions,  everything." 

"So!"  said  Karl  uneasily.  "But  the  Chancellor 
assured  me  —  "  He  stopped.  It  was  not  yet  time  to 
speak  of  the  Chancellor's  visit. 

"The  Chancellor!    He  lies,  of  course.    How  tfad 


AT  THE  INN  313 

things  are  you  may  judge  when  I  tell  you  that  a  hid 
den  passage  from  the  Palace  has  been  opened  and 
cleared,  ready  for  instant  flight." 

It  was  Karl's  turn  to  be  startled.  He  rose,  and 
stood  staring  down  at  her.  "Are  you  certain  of 
that?" 

"Certain!"  She  laughed  bitterly.  "The  Terror 
ists  —  Revolutionists,  they  call  themselves  —  are 
everywhere.  They  know  everything,  see  everything. 
Mettlich's  agents  are  disappearing  one  by  one.  No 
one  knows  where,  but  all  suspect.  Student  meetings 
are  prohibited.  The  yearly  procession  of  veterans 
is  forbidden,  for  they  trust  none,  even  their  old  sol 
diers.  The  Council  meets  day  after  day  in  secret 
session." 

"But  the  army—" 

"They  do  not  trust  the  army." 

Karl's  face  was  grave.  Something  of  the  trouble 
in  Livonia  he  had  known.  But  this  argued  an  imme 
diate  crisis. 

"On  the  King's  death,"  the  Countess  said,  "a 
republic  will  be  declared.  The  Republic  of  Livonia! 
The  Crown  Prince  will  never  reign." 

She  shivered,  but  Karl  was  absorbed  in  the  situa 
tion. 

"Incredible!"  he  commented.  "These  fears  are 
sometimes  hysterias,  but  what  you  say  of  the  prepa 
rations  for  flight  —  I  thought  the  boy  was  very 
popular." 

"With  some.  But  when  has  a  child  stood  between 


LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

the  mob  and  the  thing  it  wants?  And  the  thing  they 
cry  for  is  liberty.  Down  with  the  royal  house !  Down 
with  the  aristocracy!" 

She  was  calm  enough  now.  Karl  was  listening, 
was  considering,  looked  uneasy.  She  had  been  right. 
He  was  not  for  acquiring  trouble,  even  by  marriage. 

But,  if  she  had  read  Karl,  he  also  knew  her.  In  all 
the  years  he  had  known  her  she  had  never  been  reck 
less.  Daring  enough,  but  with  a  calculating  daring 
that  took  no  chances.  And  yet  she  had  done  a 
reckless  thing  by  coming  to  him.  From  under 
lowered  eyelids  he  considered  her.  Why  had  she 
done  it?  The  situation  was  serious  enough,  but  even 
then  — 

"So  you  came  to-day  to  tell  me  this?" 

She  glanced  up,  and  catching  his  eyes,  colored 
faintly.  "These  are  things  you  should  know." 

He  knew  her  very  well.  A  jealous  woman  would 
go  far.  He  knew  now  that  she  was  jealous.  When 
he  spoke  it  was  with  calculating  brutality.  "You 
mean,  in  view  of  my  impending  marriage?" 

So  it  was  arranged!  Finally  arranged.  Well,  she 
had  done  her  best.  He  knew  the  truth.  She  had  told 
it  fairly.  If,  knowing  it,  he  persisted,  it  would  be 
because  her  power  over  him  was  dead  at  last. 

"Yes.  I  do  not  know  how  far  your  arrangements 
have  gone.  You  have  at  least  been  warned." 

But  she  saw,  by  the  very  way  he  drew  himself  up 
and  smiled,  that  he  understood.  More  than  that,  he 
doubted  her.  He  questioned  what  she  had  said. 


AT  THE  INN  315 

The  very  fact  that  she  had  told  him  only  the  truth 
added  to  her  resentment. 

"You  will  see,"  she  said  sullenly. 

Because  he  thought  he  already  saw,  and  because 
she  had  given  him  a  bad  moment,  Karl  chose  to  be 
deliberately  cruel.  "Perhaps!"  he  said.  "But  even 
then  —  if  this  marriage  were  purely  one  of  expedi 
ency,  Olga,  I  might  hesitate.  Frankly,  I  want  peace. 
I  am  tired  of  war,  tired  of  bickering,  tired  of  watch 
ing  and  being  watched.  But  it  is  not  one  of  expedi 
ency.  Not,  at  least,  only  that.  You  leave  out  of  this 
discussion  the  one  element  that  I  consider  impor 
tant,  Hedwig  herself.  If  the  Princess  Hedwig  were 
to-morrow  to  be  without  a  country,  I  should  still 
hope  to  marry  her." 

She  had  done  well  up  to  now,  had  kept  her  cour 
age  and  her  temper,  had  taken  her  cue  from  him  and 
been  quiet  and  poised.  But  more  than  his  \vords, 
his  cruel  voice,  silky  with  friendship,  drove  her  to 
the  breaking-point.  Karl,  who  hated  a  scene,  found 
himself  the  victim  of  one,  and  was  none  the  happier 
that  she  who  had  so  long  held  him  off  was  now  her 
self  at  arm's  length,  and  struggling. 

Bitterly,  and  with  reckless  passion,  she  flung  at 
him  Hedwig's  infatuation  for  young  Larisch,  and 
prophesied  his  dishonor  as  a  result  of  it.  That  leav 
ing  him  cold  and  rather  sneering,  she  reviewed  their 
old  intimacy,  to  be  reminded  that  in  that  there  had 
been  no  question  of  marriage,  or  hope  of  it. 

"I  am  only  human,  Olga,"  he  said,  in  an  interval 


316  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

when  she  had  fallen  to  quiet  weeping.  "I  loved  you 
very  sincerely,  and  for  a  long  time.  Marriage  be 
tween  us  was  impossible.  You  always  knew  that." 

In  the  end  she  grew  quiet  and  sat  looking  into  the 
fire  with  eyes  full  of  stony  despair.  She  had  tried 
and  failed.  There  was  one  way  left,  only  one,  and 
even  that  would  not  bring  him  back  to  her.  Let  Hed- 
wig  escape  and  marry  Nikky  Larisch  —  still  where 
was  she?  Let  the  Terrorists  strike  their  blow  and 
steal  the  Crown  Prince.  Again  —  where  was  she? 

Her  emotions  were  deadened,  all  save  one,  and 
that  was  her  hatred  of  Hedwig.  The  humiliation  of 
that  moment  was  due  to  her.  Somehow,  some  day, 
she  would  be  even  with  Hedwig.  Karl  left  her  there 
at  last,  huddled  in  her  chair,  left  full  of  resentment, 
the  ashes  of  his  old  love  cold  and  gray.  There  was 
little  reminder  of  the  girl  of  the  mountains  in  the 
stony-eyed  woman  he  had  left  sagged  low  by  the  fire. 

Once  out  in  the  open  air,  the  King  of  Karnia  drew 
a  long  breath.  The  affair  was  over.  It  had  been  un 
pleasant.  It  was  always  unpleasant  to  break  with  a 
woman.  But  it  was  time.  He  neither  loved  her  nor 
needed  her.  Friendly  relations  between  the  two 
countries  were  established,  and  soon,  very  soon, 
would  be  ratified  by  his  marriage. 

It  was  not  of  Olga  Loschek,  but  of  Hedwig  that 
he  thought,  as  his  car  climbed  swiftly  to  the  lodge. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   LITTLE   DOOR 

HBDWIG  had  given  up.  She  went  through  her  days 
with  a  set  face,  white  and  drawn,  but  she  knew  now 
that  the  thing  she  was  to  do  must  be  done.  The 
King,  in  that  stormy  scene  when  the  Sister  prayed 
in  the  next  room,  had  been  sufficiently  explicit. 
They  had  come  on  bad  times,  and  could  no  longer 
trust  to  their  own  strength.  Proud  Livonia  must  ask 
for  help,  and  that  from  beyond  her  border. 

"We  are  rotten  at  the  core,"  he  said  bitterly.  "An 
old  rot  that  has  eaten  deep.  God  knows,  we  have 
tried  to  cut  it  away,  but  it  has  gone  too  far.  Times 
are,  indeed,  changed  when  we  must  ask  a  woman  to 
save  us!" 

She  had  thrown  her  arms  over  the  bed  and  buried 
her  face  in  them.  "And  I  am  to  be  sacrificed,"  she 
had  said,  in  a  flat  voice.  "I  am  to  go  through  my 
life  like  mother,  soured  and  unhappy.  Without  any 
love  at  all." 

The  King  was  stirred.  His  thin,  old  body  had 
sunk  in  the  bed  until  it  seemed  no  body  at  all. 
"Why  without  love?"  he  asked,  almost  gently. 
"Karl  knows  our  condition  —  not  all  of  it,  but  he  is 
well  aware  that  things  are  unstable  here.  Yet  he  is 
eager  for  the  marriage.  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that 


3i8  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

he  follows  his  inclinations,  rather  than  a  political 
policy." 

The  thought  that  Karl  might  love  her  had  not 
entered  her  mind.  That  made  things  worse,  if  any 
thing  —  a  situation  unfair  to  him  and  horrible  to 
herself.  In  the  silence  of  her  own  room,  afterward, 
she  pondered  over  that.  If  it  were  true,  then  a  cer 
tain  hope  she  had  must  be  relinquished  —  none 
other  than  to  throw  herself  on  his  mercy,  and  beg 
for  a  nominal  marriage,  one  that  would  satisfy  the 
political  alliance,  but  leave  both  of  them  free.  Horror 
filled  her.  She  sat  for  long  periods,  dry-eyed  and 
rigid. 

The  bronze  statue  of  the  late  Queen,  in  the  Place, 
fascinated  her  in  those  days.  She,  too,  had  been 
only  a  pawn  in  the  game  of  empires ;  but  her  face,  as 
Hedwig  remembered  it,  had  been  calm  and  without 
bitterness.  The  King  had  mourned  her  sincerely. 
What  lay  behind  that  placid,  rather  austere  old 
face?  Dead  dreams?  Or  were  the  others  right,  that 
after  a  time  it  made  no  difference,  that  one  marriage 
was  the  same  as  another? 

She  had  not  seen  Nikky  save  once  or  twice,  and 
that  in  the  presence  of  others.  On  these  occasions 
he  had  bowed  low,  and  passed  on.  But  once  she  had 
caught  his  eyes  on  her,  and  had  glowed  for  hours  at 
what  she  saw  in  them.  It  braced  her  somewhat  for 
the  impending  ordeal  of  a  visit  from  Karl. 

The  days  went  on.  Dressmakers  came  and  went. 
In  the  mountains  lace-makers  were  already  working 


THE  LITTLE  DOOR  319 

on  the  veil,  and  the  brocade  of  white  and  gold  for 
her  wedding-gown  was  on  the  loom.  She  was  the 
pale  center  of  a  riot  of  finery.  Dressmakers  stood 
back  and  raised  delighted  hands  as,  one  by  one,  their 
models  were  adjusted  to  her  listless  figure. 

In  the  general  excitement  the  Crown  Prince  was 
almost  forgotten.  Only  Nikky  remained  faithful; 
but  his  playing  those  days  was  mechanical,  and  one 
day  he  was  even  severe.  This  was  when  he  found 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  hanging  a  cigarette 
out  of  a  window  overlooking  the  courtyard,  and 
the  line  of  soldiers  underneath  in  most  surprising 
confusion.  The  officer  of  the  day  was  not  in  sight. 
Nikky,  entering  the  stone-paved  court,  and  feel 
ing  extremely  glum,  had  been  amazed  to  see  the  line 
•of  guards,  who  usually  sat  on  a  bench,  with  a  sentry 
or  picket,  or  whatever  they  called  him,  parading  up 
and  down  before  them  —  Nikky  was  amazed  to  see 
them  one  by  one  leaping  into  the  air,  in  the  most  un 
dignified  manner.  Nikky  watched  the  performance. 
Then  he  stalked  over.  They  subsided  sheepishly.  In 
the  air  was  the  cause  of  the  excitement,  a  cigarette 
dangling  at  the  end  of  a  silk  thread,  and  bobbing  up 
and  down.  No  one  was  to  be  seen  at  the  window 
above. 

Nikky  was  very  tall.  He  caught  the  offending 
atom  on  its  next  leap,  and  jerked  it  off.  As  he  had 
suspected,  it  was  one  of  his  own,  bearing  an  "N" 
and  his  coat  of  arms. 

The  Crown  Prince  received  that  day,  with  the 


320  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

cigarette  as  an  excuse,  a  considerable  amount  of 
Nikky's  general  unhappiness  and  rage  at  the  world. 

"Well,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  when 
it  was  over,  "I  have  to  do  something,  don't  I?" 

It  was  Miss  Braithwaite's  conviction  that  this 
prank,  and  several  other  things,  such  as  sauntering 
about  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  referring  to 
his  hat  as  a  "lid,"  were  all  the  result  of  his  meeting 
that  American  boy. 

"He  is  really  not  the  same  child,"  she  finished. 
"Oskar  found  him  the  other  day  with  a  rolled-up 
piece  of  paper  lighted  at  the  end,  pretending  he  was 
smoking!" 

The  Chancellor  came  now  and  then,  but  not  often. 
And  his  visits  were  not  cheering.  The  Niburg  affair 
had  left  its  mark  on  him.  The  incident  of  the  beggar 
on  the  quay  was  another  scar.  The  most  extreme 
precautions  were  being  taken,  but  a  bad  time  was 
coming,  and  must  be  got  over  somehow. 

That  bad  time  was  Karl's  visit. 

No  public  announcement  of  the  marriage  had  yet 
been  made.  It  was  bound  to  be  unpopular.  Certainly 
the  revolutionary  party  would  make  capital  of  it. 
To  put  it  through  by  force,  if  necessary,  and,  that 
accomplished,  to  hold  the  scourge  of  Karnia's  anger 
over  a  refractory  people,  was  his  plan.  To  soothe 
them  with  the  news  of  the  cession  of  the  seaport 
strip  was  his  hope. 

Sometimes,  in  the  early  morning,  when  the  King 
lay  awake,  and  was  clearer  mentally  than  later  in  the 


THE  LITTLE  DOOR  321 

day,  he  wondered.  He  would  not  live  to  see  the  result 
of  all  this  planning.  But  one  contingency  presented 
itself  constantly.  Suppose  the  Crown  Prince  did  not 
live?  He  was  sturdy  enough,  but  it  was  possible. 
Then  Hedwig,  Queen  of  Karnia,  would  be  Queen  of 
Livonia.  A  dual  kingdom  then,  with  Karl  as  Hed- 
wig's  consort,  in  control,  undoubtedly.  It  would  be 
the  end  of  many  dreams. 

It  seemed  to  him  in  those  early  hours,  that  they 
were,  indeed,  paying  a  price.  Preparations  were 
making  for  Karl's  visit.  Prince  Hubert's  rooms  were 
opened  at  last,  and  redecorated  as  well  as  possible 
in  the  short  time  at  command,  under  the  supervision 
of  the  Archduchess.  The  result  was  a  crowding  that 
was  neither  dignified  nor  cheerful.  Much  as  she 
trimmed  her  own  lean  body,  she  decorated.  But  she 
was  busy,  at  least,  and  she  let  Hedwig  alone. 

It  was  not  unusual,  those  days,  to  find  Annun- 
ciata,  flushed  with  exertion,  in  the  great  suite  on  an 
upper  floor,  in  the  center  of  a  chaos  of  furniture, 
shoving  chairs  about  with  her  own  royal  arms,  or 
standing,  head  on  one  side,  to  judge  what  she  termed 
the  composition  of  a  corner.  Indignant  footmen 
pushed  and  carried,  and  got  their  wigs  crooked  and 
their  dignified  noses  dirty,  and  held  rancorous  meet- 
meetings  in  secluded  places. 

But  Annunciata  kept  on.  It  gave  her  something 
to  think  of  in  place  of  the  fear  that  filled  her,  made 
her  weary  enough  to  sleep  at  night. 

And  there  was  something  else  that  comforted  her. 


322  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Beyond  the  windows  of  the  suite  was  a  flat  roof, 
beneath  which  was  the  ballroom  of  the  Palace. 
When  the  apartment  was  in  use,  the  roof  was  made 
into  a  garden,  the  ugly  old  walls  hidden  with  plants 
in  tubs  and  boxes,  the  parapet  edged  with  flowers. 
It  was  still  early,  so  spring  tulips  were  planted  now 
on  the  parapet,  early  primroses  and  hyacinths.  In 
the  center  an  empty  fountain  was  cleared,  its  upper 
basins  filled  with  water  vines,  its  borders  a  riot  of 
color.  When  the  water  was  turned  on,  it  would  be 
quite  lovely. 

But  it  was  not  the  garden  on  the  roof  which 
cheered  Annunciata.  It  had,  indeed,  rather  sad 
memories.  Here  had  Hubert's  young  wife  kept  her 
cages  of  birds,  fed  with  her  own  hands,  and  here, 
before  Otto  was  born,  she  had  taken  the  air  in  a 
long  chintz-covered  chair. 

Annunciata,  overseeing  the  roof  as  she  had  over 
seen  the  apartment,  watched  the  gardeners  bringing 
in  their  great  loads  of  plants  from  the  summer  pal 
ace,  and  saw  that  a  small  door,  in  a  turret,  was  kept 
free  of  access.  To  that  door,  everything  else  failing, 
the  Archduchess  pinned  her  faith.  She  carried  every 
where  with  her  a  key  that  would  open  it. 

Long  ago  had  the  door  been  built,  long  ago,  when 
attacking  forces,  battering  in  the  doors  below,  might 
swarm  through  the  lower  floors,  held  back  on  stair 
cases  by  fighting  men  who  retreated,  step  by  step, 
until,  driven  at  last  to  the  very  top,  they  were  ap 
parently  lost.  More  than  once,  in  bygone  times, 


THE  LITTLE  DOOR  323 

the  royal  family  had  escaped  by  that  upper  door, 
and  the  guard  after  them.  It  was  known  to  few. 
The  staircase  in  the  wall  had  passed  into  legend, 
and  the  underground  passage  with  it.  But  they  still 
existed,  and  had  recently  been  put  in  order.  The 
Chancellor  had  given  the  command,  and  because 
there  were  few  to  be  trusted,  two  monks  from  the 
monastery  attached  to  the  cathedral  had  done  the 
work. 

So  the  gardeners  set  out  their  potted  evergreens, 
and  covered  the  primroses  on  the  balustrade  against 
frost,  and  went  away.  And  the  roof  had  become  by 
magic  a  garden,  the  walls  were  miniature  forests, 
but  the  door  remained  —  a  door. 

On  a  desperate  morning  Hedwig  threw  caution  to 
the  winds  and  went  to  the  riding-school.  She  wore 
her  old  habit,  and  was  in  the  ring,  but  riding  list 
lessly,  when  Nikky  and  Otto  appeared. 

"And  eat!"  Nikky  was  saying.  "He  always  eats. 
And  when  I  take  him  for  a  walk  in  the  park,  he  digs 
up  bones  that  other  dogs  have  buried,  and  carries 
them  home  with  him.  We  look  very  disreputable." 

The  Crown  Prince  laughed  with  delight,  but  just 
then  Nikky  saw  Hedwig,  and  his  own  smile  died. 

"There's  Hedwig!"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  Wil 
liam  Otto.  "I'm  rather  glad  to  see  her.  Aren't 
you?" 

"Very  glad,  indeed." 

"You  don't  look  glad." 

"  I  'm  feeling  very  glad  inside." 


324  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

They  rode  together,  around  and  around  the  long 
oval,  with  its  whitewashed  railing,  its  attendant 
grooms,  its  watchful  eyes  overhead.  Between  Nikky 
and  Hedwig  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  laughed 
and  chattered,  and  Hedwig  talked  a  great  deal  about 
nothing,  with  bright  spots  of  red  burning  in  her  face. 

Nikky  was  very  silent.  He  rode  with  his  eyes  set 
ahead,  and  had  to  be  spoken  to  twice  before  he 
heard. 

"You  are  not  having  a  very  good  time,  are  you?" 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  inquired  anxiously. 
To  tell  the  truth,  he  had  been  worried  about  Nikky 
for  some  days.  Nikky  had  been  his  one  gleam  of 
cheerfulness  in  a  Palace  where  all  was  bustle  and 
excitement  and  every  one  seemed  uneasy.  But 
Nikky's  cheerfulness  had  been  forced  lately.  His 
smile  never  reached  his  eyes.  "I  have  n't  done  any 
thing,  have  I?"  he  persisted. 

" Bless  you,  no! "  said  Nikky  heartily.  "I  —  well, 
I  did  n't  sleep  well  last  night.  That's  all." 

He  met  Hedwig's  glance  squarely  over  the  head 
of  the  Crown  Prince. 

"Nor  did  I,"  Hedwig  said. 

Later,  when  the  boy  was  jumping,  they  had  a 
moment  together.  The  Crown  Prince  was  very 
absorbed.  He  was  just  a  little  nervous  about  jump 
ing.  First  he  examined  his  stirrups  and  thrust  his 
feet  well  into  them.  Then  he  jammed  his  cap  down 
on  his  head  and  settled  himself  in  the  saddle,  his 
small  knees  gripping  hard. 


THE  LITTLE  DOOR  325 

"It's  higher  than  usual,  isn't  it?"  he  inquired, 
squinting  at  the  hurdle. 

The  riding-master  examined  it.  "It  is  an  inch 
lower  than  yesterday,  Your  Royal  Highness." 

' '  Perhaps  we  'd  better  have  it  the  same  as  yester 
day,"  said  the  boy,  who  was  terribly  afraid  of  being 
afraid. 

Then,  all  being  adjusted,  and  his  mouth  set  very 
tight,  indeed,  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  took 
the  first  jump,  and  sailed  over  it  comfortably. 

"I  don't  mind  at  all,  after  the  first,"  he  confided 
to  the  riding-master. 

"Are  you  angry  that  I  came?"  asked  Hedwig. 

"Angry?   You  know  better." 

"You  don't  say  anything." 

"Hedwig,"  said  Nikky  desperately,  "do  you  re 
member  what  I  said  to  you  the  other  day?  That  is 
in  my  heart  now.  I  shall  never  change.  That,  and 
much  more.  But  I  cannot  say  it  to  you.  I  have  given 
my  word." 

"Of  course  they  would  make  you  promise.  They 
tried  with  me,  but  I  refused."  She  held  her  chin  very 
high.  "Why  did  you  promise?  They  could  not  have 
forced  you.  They  can  do  many  things,  but  they 
cannot  control  what  you  may  say." 

"There  are  reasons.  Even  those  I  cannot  tell  you. 
It  would  be  easier,  Hedwig,  for  me  to  die  than  to  live 
on  and  see  what  I  must  see.  But  I  cannot  even  die." 
He  smiled  faintly.  "You  see,  I  am  not  keeping  my 
promise." 


326  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"I  think  you  will  not  die,"  said  Hedwig  cruelly. 
"You  are  too  cautious." 

"Yes,  I  am  too  cautious,"  he  agreed  heavily. 

"You  do  not  know  the  meaning  of  love." 

"Then  God  grant  I  may  never  know,  if  it  is  worse 
than  this." 

"If  I  were  a  man,  and  loved  a  woman,  I  would 
think  less  of  myself  and  more  of  her.  When  I  saw 
her  unhappy  and  being  forced  to  a  terrible  thing,  I 
would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  save  her." 

"  How  would  you  do  it?  "  said  Nikky  in  a  low  tone. 

Hedwig  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "I  would  find  a 
way.  The  world  is  large.  Surely,  if  one  really  cared, 
it  could  be  managed.  I  should  consider  my  first 
duty  to  her." 

"I  am  a  soldier,  Highness.  My  first  duty  is  to  my 
country." 

"You?"  said  Hedwig,  now  very  white.  "I  was 
not  speaking  of  you.  I  was  speaking  of  a  man  who 
truly  loved  a  woman." 

She  rode  away,  and  left  him  there.  And  because 
she  was  hurt  and  reckless,  and  not  quite  sane,  she 
gave  him  a  very  bad  half-hour.  She  jumped  again, 
higher  each  time,  silencing  the  protests  of  the  riding- 
master  with  an  imperious  gesture.  Her  horse  tired. 
His  sides  heaved,  his  delicate  nostrils  dilated.  She 
beat  him  with  her  crop,  and  flung  him  again  at  the 
hurdle. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  delighted,  a 
trifle  envious.  "She  jumps  better  than  I  do,"  he 


THUS   WAS   THE   STUDENT   HAECKEL,  PATRIOT   AND   ROYALIST, 
LED   FORTH   TO  DIE 


THE  LITTLE  DOOR  327 

observed  to  Nikky,  "but  she  is  in  a  very  bad  humor." 

At  last,  his  patience  exhausted  and  fear  in  his 
heart,  Nikky  went  to  her.  "  Hedwig,"  he  said  sternly. 
"I  want  you  to  stop  this  childishness.  You  will  kill 
yourself." 

"I  am  trying  very  hard  to." 

"You  will  kill  your  horse.   Look  at  him." 

For  answer  she  raised  her  crop,  but  Nikky  bent 
forward  and  caught  the  reins. 

"How  dare  you!"  she  said  furiously. 

For  answer  Nikky  turned  and,  riding  beside  her, 
led  her  weary  horse  out  of  the  ring.  And  long  train 
ing  asserted  itself.  Hedwig  dared  not  make  a  scene 
before  the  waiting  grooms.  She  rode  in  speechless 
rage,  as  white  as  Nikky,  and  trembling  with  fury. 
She  gave  him  no  time  to  assist  her  to  dismount,  but 
slipped  off  herself  and  left  him,  her  slim,  black- 
habited  figure  held  very  straight. 

"  I  'm  afraid  she's  very  angry  with  you,"  said  the 
Crown  Prince,  as  they  walked  back  to  the  Palace. 
"She  looked  more  furious  than  she  did  about  the 
fruit-cake." 

That  afternoon  Nikky  went  for  a  walk.  He  took 
Toto  with  him,  and  they  made  the  circuit  of  the 
Park,  which  formed  an  irregular  circle  about  the 
narrow  streets  of  the  old  citadel  where  the  wall  had 
once  stood.  He  walked,  as  he  had  done  before,  be 
cause  he  was  in  trouble,  but  with  this  difference, 
that  then  he  had  walked  in  order  to  think,  and  now 
he  walked  to  forget. 


328  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

In  that  remote  part  where  the  Gate  of  the  Moon 
stood,  and  where,  outside,  in  mediaeval  times  had 
been  the  jousting-ground,  the  Park  widened.  Here 
was  now  the  city  playground,  the  lake  where  in  win 
ter  the  people  held  ice  carnivals,  and  where,  now 
that  spring  was  on  the  way,  they  rode  in  the  little 
cars  of  the  Scenic  Railway. 

An  old  soldier  with  a  wooden  leg,  and  a  child, 
were  walking  together  by  the  lake,  and  conversing 
seriously.  A  dog  was  burying  a  bone  under  a  near-by 
tree.  Toto,  true  to  his  instincts,  waited  until  the 
bone  was  covered,  and  then,  with  calm  proprietor 
ship,  dug  it  up  and  carried  it  off.  Having  learned 
that  Nikky  now  and  then  carried  bones  in  his  pock 
ets,  he  sat  up  and  presented  it  to  him.  Nikky  paying 
no  attention  at  first,  Toto  flung  it  up  in  the  air, 
caught  it  on  his  nose,  balanced  it  a  second,  and 
dropped  it.  Then  followed  a  sudden  explosion  of 
dog  rage  and  a  mix-up  of  two  dogs,  an  old  soldier, 
a  young  one,  a  boy,  and  a  wooden  leg.  In  the  end 
the  wooden  leg  emerged  triumphant,  Toto  clinging 
to  it  under  the  impression  that  he  had  something 
quite  different.  The  bone  was  flung  into  the  lake, 
and  a  snarling  truce  established. 

But  there  had  been  a  casualty.  Bobby  had  suffered 
a  severe  nip  on  the  forearm,  and  was  surveying  it 
with  rather  dazed  eyes. 

"Gee,  it's  bleeding!"  he  said. 

Nikky  looked  worried,  but  old  Adelbert,  who  had 
seen  many  wounds,  recommended  tying  it  up  with 


THE  LITTLE  DOOR  329 

garlic,  and  then  forgetting  it.  "  It  is  the  first  quarter 
of  the  moon,"  he  said.  "No  dog's  bite  is  injurious 
at  that  time." 

Nikky,  who  had  had  a  sniff  of  the  bone  of  conten 
tion,  was  not  so  easy  in  his  mind.  First  quarter  of 
the  moon  it  might  be,  but  the  bone  was  not  in  its 
first  quarter.  "I  could  walk  home  with  the  boy," 
he  suggested,  "and  get  something  at  a  chemist's 
on  the  way." 

"Will  it  hurt?"  demanded  Bobby. 

"We  will  ask  for  something  that  will  not  hurt." 

So  it  happened  that  Bobby  and  Tucker,  the  two 
pirates,  returned  that  day  to  their  home  under  the 
escort  of  a  tall  young  man  who  carried  a  bottle 
wrapped  in  pink  paper  in  his  hand,  and  looked  seri 
ous.  Old  Pepy  was  at  home.  She  ran  about  getting 
basins,  and  because  Nikky  had  had  his  first-aid 
training,  in  a  very  short  time  everything  was  ship 
shape,  and  no  one  the  worse. 

"Do  you  suppose  it  will  leave  a  scar?"  Bobby 
demanded. 

"Well,  a  little  one,  probably." 

"I've  got  two  pretty  good  ones  already,"  Bobby 
boasted,  "not  counting  my  vaccination.  Gee!  I  bet 
mother '11  be  surprised." 

"The  Americans,"  said  Pepy,  with  admiring  eyes 
fixed  on  their  visitor,  "are  very  peculiar  about  inju 
ries.  They  speak  always  of  small  animals  that  crawl 
about  in  wounds  and  bring  poison." 

"Germs!"  Bobby  explained.     "But  they  know 


330  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

about  germs  here,  too.  I  played  with  a  boy  one 
afternoon  at  the  Scenic  Railway  —  my  father  is  the 
manager,  you  know.  If  you  like,  I  can  give  you 
some  tickets.  And  the  boy  said  a  fig  lady  he  had 
was  covered  with  germs.  We  ate  it  anyhow." 

Nikky  looked  down  smilingly.  So  this  was  the 
American  lad!  Of  course.  He  could  understand 
Otto's  warm  feeling  now.  They  were  not  unlike, 
the  two  children.  This  boy  was  more  sturdy,  not  so 
fine,  perhaps,  but  eminently  likable.  He  was  cour 
ageous,  too.  The  iodine  had  not  been  pleasant,  but 
he  had  only  whistled. 

"And  —  nothing  happened  to  the  other  boy,  be 
cause  of  the  germs?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  never  came  back.  He  was  a 
funny  boy.  He  had  a  hat  like  father's.  Gee!" 

Nikky  took  his  departure,  followed  by  Pepy's 
eyes.  As  long  as  he  was  in  sight  she  watched  him 
from  the  window.  "He  is  some  great  person,"  she 
said  to  Bobby.  "Of  the  aristocracy.  I  know  the 
manner." 

"A  prince,  maybe?" 

"Perhaps.  You  in  America,  you  have  no  such 
men,  I  think,  such  fine  soldiers,  aristocrats,  and  yet 
gentle.  The  uniform  is  considered  the  handsomest 
in  Europe." 

' '  Humph ! ' '  said  Bobby  aggressively.  ' '  You  ought 
to  see  my  uncle  dressed  for  a  Knight  Templar 
parade.  You'd  see  something." 

Nikky  went  down  the  stairs,  with  Toto  at  his 


THE  LITTLE  DOOR  331 

heels,  a  valiant  and  triumphant  Toto,  as  becomes  a 
dog  who  has  recently  vanquished  a  wooden  leg. 

At  the  foot  of  the  staircase  a  man  was  working  — 
replacing  a  loosened  tile  in  the  passage:  a  huge  man, 
clad  in  a  smock  and  with  a  bushy  black  beard  tucked 
in  his  neck  out  of  the  way.  Nikky  nodded  to  him, 
and  went  out.  Like  a  cat  Black  Humbert  was  on  his 
feet,  and  peering  after  him  from  the  street  door.  It 
was  he,  then,  the  blond  devil  who  had  fallen  on  them 
that  night,  and  had  fought  as  one  who  fights  for  the 
love  of  it!  The  concierge  went  back  to  the  door  of 
his  room. 

Herman  Spier  sat  inside.  He  had  fortified  his 
position  by  that  trip  to  the  mountains,  and  now 
spent  his  days  in  Black  Humbert's  dirty  kitchen, 
or  in  errand-running.  He  was  broiling  a  sausage  on 
the  end  of  a  fork. 

"Quick!"  cried  Black  Humbert.  "Along  the 
street,  with  a  black  dog  at  his  heels,  goes  one  you  will 
recognize.  Follow  him,  and  find  out  what  you  can." 

Herman  Spier  put  the  sausage  in  his  pocket  —  he 
had  paid  for  it  himself,  and  meant  to  have  it  —  and 
started  out.  It  was  late  when  he  returned. 

He  gave  Nikky's  name  and  position,  where  his 
lodgings  were,  or  had  been  until  now.  He  was  about 
to  remove  to  the  Palace,  having  been  made  aide-de 
camp  to  the  Crown  Prince. 

"So!"  said  Black  Humbert. 

"It  is  also,"  observed  Herman  Spier,  eating  his 
sausage,  "this  same  one  who  led  the  police  to 


332  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Niburg's  room.  I  have  the  word  of  the  woman  who 
keeps  the  house." 

The  concierge  rose,  and  struck  the  table  with  his 
fist.  "And  now  he  comes  here!"  he  said.  "The  boy 
upstairs  was  a  blind.  He  has  followed  us."  He  struck 
the  sausage  furiously  out  of  Herman's  hand.  "To 
night  the  police  will  come.  And  what  then?" 

"If  you  had  taken  my  advice,"  said  the  clerk, 
"you  would  have  got  rid  of  that  fellow  upstairs  long 
ago."  He  picked  up  the  sausage  and  dusted  it  with 
his  hand.  "But  I  do  not  believe  the  police  will  come. 
The  child  was  bitten.  I  saw  them  enter." 

Nevertheless,  that  night,  while  Herman  Spier 
kept  watch  at  the  street  door,  the  concierge  labored 
in  the  little  yard  behind  the  house.  He  moved  a 
rabbit  hutch  and,  wedging  his  huge  body  behind  it, 
loosened  a  board  or  two  in  the  high  wooden  fence. 

More  than  the  Palace  prepared  for  flight. 

Still  later,  old  Adelbert  roused  from  sleep.  There 
were  footsteps  in  the  passage  outside,  the  opening  of 
a  door.  He  reflected  that  the  concierge  was  an  owl 
and,  the  sounds  persisting,  called  out  an  irritable 
order  for  quiet. 

Then  he  slept  again,  and  while  he  slept  the  sounds 
recommenced.  Had  he  glanced  out  into  the  passage 
then,  he  would  have  seen  two  men,  half  supporting 
a  third,  who  tottered  between  them.  Thus  was  the 
student  Haeckel,  patriot  and  Royalist,  led  forth  to 
die. 

And  he  did  not  die. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
THE  CROWN  PRINCE'S  PILGRIMAGE 

THE  day  when  Olga  Loschek  should  have  returned 
to  the  city  found  her  too  ill  to  travel.  No  feigned 
sickness  this,  but  real  enough,  a  matter  of  fever  and 
burning  eyes,  and  of  mutterings  in  troubled  sleep. 

Minna  was  alarmed.  She  was  fond  of  her  mis 
tress,  in  spite  of  her  occasional  cruelties,  and  lately 
the  Countess  had  been  strangely  gentle.  She  re 
quired  little  attention,  wished  to  be  alone,  and  lay 
in  her  great  bed,  looking  out  steadily  at  the  bleak 
mountain-tops,  to  which  spring  never  climbed. 

"She  eats  nothing,"  Minna  said  despairingly  to 
the  caretaker.  "And  her  eyes  frighten  me.  They  are 
always  open,  even  in  the  night,  but  they  seem  to  see 
nothing." 

On  the  day  when  she  should  have  returned,  the 
Countess  roused  herself  enough  to  send  for  Black 
Humbert,  fretting  in  the  kitchen  below.  He  had  be 
lieved  that  she  was  malingering  until  he  saw  her,  but 
her  flushed  and  hollow  cheeks  showed  her  condition. 

"You  must  return  and  explain,"  she  said.  "I 
shall  need  more  time,  after  all." 

When  he  hesitated,  she  added:  "There  are  plenty 
to  watch  that  I  do  not  escape.  I  could  not,  if  I  would. 
I  have  not  the  strength." 


334  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

"Time  is  passing,"  he  said  gruffly,  "and  we  get 
nowhere." 

"As  soon  as  I  can  travel,  I  will  come." 

"If  madame  wishes,  I  can  take  a  letter." 

She  pondered  over  that,  interlacing  her  fingers 
nervously  as  she  reflected. 

"I  will  send  no  letter,"  she  decided,  "but  I  will 
give  you  a  message,  which  you  can  deliver." 

"Yes,  madame." 

"Say  to  the  Committee,"  she  began,  and  paused. 
She  had  thought  and  thought  until  her  brain  burned 
with  thinking,  but  she  had  found  no  way  out.  And 
yet  she  could  not  at  once  bring  herself  to  speech. 
But  at  last  she  said  it:  "Say  to  the  Committee  that  I 
have  reflected  and  that  I  will  do  what  they  ask.  As 
far,"  she  added,  "as  lies  in  my  power.  I  can  only 
try." 

"That  is  all  the  Committee  expects,"  he  said 
civilly,  and  with  a  relief  that  was  not  lost  on  her. 
"With  madame's  intelligence,  to  try  is  to  succeed." 

Nevertheless,  he  left  her  well  guarded.  Even 
Minna,  slipping  off  for  an  evening  hour  with  a  vil 
lage  sweetheart,  was  stealthily  shadowed.  Before 
this,  fine  ladies  had  changed  garments  with  their 
maids  and  escaped  from  divers  unpleasantnesses. 

Olga  Loschek  lay  in  her  bed,  and  always  there 
were  bells.  The  cattle  were  being  driven  up  into  the 
mountains  for  the  summer  grazing,  great,  soft-eyed 
herds,  their  bells  tinkling  slowly  as  they  made  their 
deliberate,  soft-footed  progress  along  the  valley ;  the 


THE  CROWN  PRINCE'S  PILGRIMAGE    335 

silvery  bells  for  mass;  the  clock  striking  the  hour 
with  its  heavy,  vibrating  clamor  of  bronze. 

When  she  sank  into  the  light  sleep  of  fever,  they 
roused  her,  or  she  slept  on,  hearing  in  their  tones  the 
great  bell  of  St.  Stefan's  announcing  the  King's 
death.  Bells,  always  bells. 

At  the  end  of  two  days  she  was  able  to  be  up  again. 
She  moved  languidly  about  her  room,  still  too  weak 
to  plan.  There  were  times  when  she  contemplated 
suicide,  but  she  knew  herself  to  be  too  cowardly  to 
do  more  than  dream  of  it. 

And  on  the  fourth  day  came  the  Crown  Prince 
of  Livonia  on  a  pilgrimage. 

The  manner  of  his  coming  was  this:  — 

There  are  more  ways  than  one  of  reaching  the 
hearts  of  an  uneasy  people.  Remission  of  taxes  is  a 
bad  one.  It  argues  a  mistake  in  the  past,  in  exacting 
such  tithes.  Governments  may  make  errors,  but  must 
not  acknowledge  them.  There  is  the  freeing  of  politi 
cal  prisoners,  but  that,  too,  is  dangerous,  when  such 
prisoners  breathe  sedition  to  the  very  prison  walls. 

And  there  is  the  appeal  to  sentiment.  The  Govern 
ment,  pinning  all  its  hopes  to  one  small  boy,  would 
further  endear  him  to  the  people.  Wily  statesman 
that  he  was,  the  Chancellor  had  hit  on  this  to  offset 
the  rumors  of  Hedwig's  marriage. 

But  the  idea  was  not  his,  although  he  adopted  it. 
It  had  had  its  birth  in  the  little  room  with  the  prie- 
dieu  and  the  stand  covered  with  bottles,  had  been 
born  of  the  Sister's  belief  in  the  miracles  of  Etzel. 


336  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

However,  he  appropriated  it,  and  took  it  to  the 
King. 

"A  pilgrimage!"  said  the  King,  when  the  matter 
was  broached  to  him.  "For  what?  My  recovery? 
Cannot  you  let  your  servant  depart  in  peace?" 

"Pilgrimages,"  observed  the  Chancellor,  "have 
had  marvelous  results,  sire.  I  do  not  insist  that  they 
perform  miracles,  as  some  believe,"  -  he  smiled 
faintly,  -  "but  as  a  matter  of  public  feeling  and  a 
remedy  for  discord,  they  are  sometimes  efficacious." 

"I  see,"  said  the  King.  And  lay  still,  looking  at 
the  ceiling. 

"Can  it  be  done  safely?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"The  maddest  traitor  would  not  threaten  the 
Crown  Prince  on  a  pilgrimage.  The  people  would 
tear  him  limb  from  limb." 

"Nevertheless,  I  should  take  all  precautions,"  he 
said  dryly.  "A  madman  might  not  recognize  the  — 
er —  religious  nature  of  the  affair." 

The  same  day  the  Chancellor  visited  Prince  Ferdi 
nand  William  Otto,  and  found  him  returned  from  his 
drive  and  busy  over  Hedwig's  photograph  frame. 

"It  is  almost  done,"  he  said.  "I  slipped  over  in 
one  or  two  places,  but  it  is  not  very  noticeable,  is 
it?" 

The  Chancellor  observed  it  judicially,  and  decided 
that  the  slipping  over  was  not  noticeable  at  all. 
Except  during  school  hours  Miss  Braithwaite  always 
retired  during  the  Chancellor's  visits,  and  so  now 
the  two  were  alone. 


THE  CROWN  PRINCE'S  PILGRIMAGE    337 

"Otto,"  said  the  Chancellor  gravely,  "I  want  to 
talk  to  you  very  seriously." 

"Have  I  done  anything?" 

"No."  He  smiled.  "  It  is  about  something  I  would 
like  you  to  do.  For  your  grandfather." 

"I'll  do  anything  for  him,  sir." 

"We  know  that.  This  is  the  point.  He  has  been 
ill  for  a  long  time.  Very  ill." 

The  boy  watched  him  with  a  troubled  face.  "He 
looks  very  thin,"  he  said.  "I  get  quite  worried  when 
I  see  him." 

"Exactly.   You  have  heard  of  Etzel?" 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto's  religious  instruc 
tion  was  of  the  best.  He  had,  indeed,  heard  of  Etzel. 
He  knew  the  famous  pilgrimages  in  order,  and  could 
say  them  rapidly,  beginning,  the  year  of  Our  Lord 
915  —  the  Emperor  Otto  and  Adelheid,  his  spouse; 
the  year  of  Our  Lord  1 100,  Ulrich,  Count  of  Ruburg; 
and  so  on. 

"When  people  are  ill,"  he  said  sagely,  "they  go  to 
Etzel  to  be  cured." 

"Precisely.  But  when  they  cannot  go,  they  send 
some  one  else,  to  pray  for  them.  And  sometimes, 
if  they  have  faith  enough,  the  holy  miracle  happens, 
and  they  are  cured." 

The  Chancellor  was  deeply  religious,  and  although 
he  had  planned  the  pilgrimage  for  political  reasons, 
for  the  moment  he  lost  sight  of  them.  What  if,  after 
all,  this  clear-eyed,  clean-hearted  child  could  bring 
this  miracle  of  the  King's  recovery?  It  was  a  famous 


338  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

shrine,  and  stranger  things  had  been  brought  about 
by  less  worthy  agencies. 

"I  thought,"  he  said,  "that  if  you  would  go  to 
Etzel,  Otto,  and  there  pray  for  your  grandfather's 
recovery,  it  —  it  would  be  a  good  thing." 

The  meaning  of  such  a  pilgrimage  dawned  sud 
denly  on  the  boy.  His  eyes  filled,  and  because  he 
considered  it  unmanly  to  weep,  he  slid  from  his 
chair  and  went  to  the  window.  There  he  got  out  his 
pocket-handkerchief  and  blew  his  nose. 

"I'm  afraid  he's  going  to  die,"  he  said,  in  a 
smothered  voice. 

The  Chancellor  followed  him  to  the  window,  and 
put  an  arm  around  his  shoulders.  "Even  that  would 
not  be  so  terrible,  Otto,"  he  said.  "Death,  to  the 
old,  is  not  terrible.  It  is  an  open  door,  through 
which  they  go  gladly,  because  —  because  those  who 
have  gone  ahead  are  waiting  just  beyond  it." 

"Are  my  mother  and  father  waiting?" 

"Yes,  Otto." 

He  considered.    "And  my  grandmother?" 

"Yes." 

"He'll  be  very  glad  to  see  them  all  again." 

"Very  happy,  indeed.  But  we  need  him  here,  too, 
for  a  while.  You  need  him  and  —  I.  So  we  will  go 
and  pray  to  have  him  wait  a  little  longer  before  he 
goes  away.  How  about  it?" 

"  I  '11  try.  I  'm  not  very  good.  I  do  a  good  many 
things,  you  know." 

Here,   strangely  enough,   it  was  the  Chancellor 


THE  CROWN  PRINCE'S  PILGRIMAGE    339 

who  fumbled  for  his  handkerchief.  A  vision  had 
come  to  him  of  the  two  of  them  kneeling  side  by  side 
at  Etzel,  the  little  lad  who  was  "not  very  good,"  and 
he  himself  with  his  long  years  behind  him  of  such 
things  as  fill  a  man's  life.  And  because  the  open  door 
was  not  so  far  ahead  for  him  either,  and  because  he 
believed  implicitly  in  the  great  Record  within  the 
Gate,  he  shook  his  shaggy  head. 

So  the  pilgrimage  was  arranged.  With  due  pub 
licity,  of  course,  and  due  precaution  for  safety.  By 
train  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  then  on  foot 
for  the  ten  miles  to  Etzel. 

On  the  next  day  the  Crown  Prince  fasted,  taking 
nothing  but  bread  and  a  cup  of  milk.  On  the  day  of 
the  pilgrimage,  however,  having  been  duly  prepared, 
and  mass  having  been  said  at  daybreak  in  the 
chapel,  with  all  the  Court  present,  he  was  given  a 
substantial  breakfast.  His  small  legs  had  a  toilsome 
journey  before  them. 

He  went  through  his  preparation  in  a  sort  of  rapt 
solemnity.  So  must  the  boy  crusaders  have  looked  as, 
starting  on  their  long  journey,  they  faced  south  and 
east,  toward  the  far-distant  Sepulcher  of  Our  Lord. 

The  King's  Council  went,  the  Chancellor,  the 
Mayor  of  the  city,  wearing  the  great  gold  chain  of 
his  office  around  his  neck,  and  a  handful  of  soldiers, 
—  a  simple  pilgrimage  and  the  more  affecting.  There 
were  no  streaming  banners,  no  magnificent  vest 
ments.  The  Archbishop  accompanied  them,  and  a 
flag-bearer. 


340  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

They  went  on  foot  to  the  railway  station  through 
lines  of  kneeling  people,  the  boy  still  rapt,  and  look 
ing  straight  ahead,  the  Chancellor  seemingly  also 
absorbed,  but  keenly  alive  to  the  crowds.  As  he 
went  on,  his  face  relaxed.  It  was  as  if  the  miracle 
had  already  happened.  Not  the  miracle  for  which 
the  boy  would  pray,  but  a  greater  one.  Surely  these 
kneeling  people,  gazing  with  moist  and  kindly  eyes 
at  the  Crown  Prince,  could  not,  at  the  hot  words  of 
demagogues,  turn  into  the  mob  he  feared.  But  it 
had  happened  before.  The  people  who  had,  one 
moment,  adored  the  Dauphin  of  France  on  his  bal 
cony  at  Versailles,  had  lived  to  scream  for  his  life. 

On  and  on,  through  the  silent,  crowded  streets. 
No  drums,  no  heralds,  no  bugles.  First  the  standard- 
bearer;  then  the  Archbishop,  walking  with  his  head 
bent;  then  the  boy,  alone  and  bareheaded,  holding 
his  small  hat  in  moist,  excited  fingers;  then  the 
others,  the  Chancellor  and  the  Mayor  together,  the 
Council,  the  guard.  So  they  moved  along,  without 
speech,  grave,  reverent,  earnest. 

At  the  railway  station  a  man  stepped  out  of  the 
crowd  and  proffered  a  paper  to  the  Crown  Prince. 
But  he  was  too  absorbed  to  see  it,  and  a  moment 
later  the  Chancellor  had  it,  and  was  staring  with 
hard  eyes  at  the  individual  who  had  presented  it. 
A  moment  later,  without  sound,  or  breach  of  deco 
rum,  the  man  was  between  two  agents,  a  prisoner. 
The  paper,  which  the  Chancellor  read  on  the  train 
and^caref  ully  preserved,  was  a  highly  seditious  docu- 


THE  CROWN  PRINCE'S  PILGRIMAGE    341 

ment  attacking  the  Government  and  ending  with 
threats. 

The  Chancellor,  who  had  started  in  an  exalted 
frame  of  mind,  sat  scowling  and  thoughtful  during 
the  journey.  How  many  of  those  who  had  knelt  on 
the  street  had  had  similar  seditious  papers  in  their 
pockets?  A  people  who  could  kneel,  and,  kneeling, 
plot! 

The  Countess,  standing  on  her  balcony  and  staring 
down  into  the  valley,  beheld  the  pilgrimage  and  had 
thus  her  first  knowledge  of  it.  She  was  incredulous 
at  first,  and  stood  gazing,  gripping  the  stone  railing 
with  tense  hands.  She  watched,  horror-stricken. 
The  Crown  Prince,  himself,  come  to  Etzel  to  pray! 
For  his  grandfather,  of  course.  Then,  indeed,  must 
things  be  bad  with  the  King,  as  bad  as  they  could  be. 

The  Crown  Prince  was  very  warm.  She  could  see 
the  gleam  of  his  handkerchief  as  he  wiped  his  damp 
face.  She  could  see  the  effort  of  his  tired  legs  to 
keep  step  with  the  standard-bearer. 

The  bells  again.  How  she  hated  them !  They  rang 
out  now  to  welcome  the  pilgrims,  and  a  procession 
issued  from  the  church  door,  a  lay  brother  first, 
carrying  a  banner,  then  the  fathers,  two  by  two; 
the  boys  from  the  church  school  in  long  procession. 
The  royal  party  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  street. 
The  fathers  advanced.  She  could  make  out  Father 
Gregory's  portly  figure  among  them.  The  bell  tolled. 
The  villagers  stood  in  excited  but  quiet  groups, 
and  watched. 


342  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Then  the  two  banners  touched,  the  schoolboys 
turned,  followed  by  the  priests.  Thus  led,  went  the 
Crown  Prince  of  Livonia  to  pray  for  his  grandfather's 
life. 

The  church  doors  closed  behind  them. 

Olga  Loschek  fell  on  her  knees.  She  was  shaking 
from  head  to  foot.  And  because  the  religious  train 
ing  of  her  early  life  near  the  shrine  had  given  her 
faith  in  miracles,  she  prayed  for  one.  Rather,  she 
made  a  bargain  with  God :  — 

If  any  word  came  to  her  from  Karl,  any,  no  mat 
ter  to  what  it  pertained,  she  would  take  it  for  a  sign, 
and  attempt  flight.  If  she  was  captured,  she  would 
kill  herself. 

But,  if  no  word  came  from  Karl  by  the  hour  of  her 
departure  the  next  morning,  then  she  would  do  the 
thing  she  had  set  out  to  do,  and  let  him  beware! 
The  King  dead,  there  would  be  no  King.  Only  over 
the  dead  bodies  of  the  Livonians  would  they  let  him 
marry  Hedwig  and  the  throne.  It  would  be  war. 

Curiously,  while  she  was  still  on  her  knees,  her 
bargain  made,  the  plan  came  to  her  by  which,  when 
the  time  came,  the  Terrorists  were  to  rouse  the  peo 
ple  to  even  greater  fury.  Still  kneeling,  she  turned  it 
over  in  her  mind.  It  was  possible.  More,  it  could  be 
made  plausible,  with  her  assistance.  And  at  the 
vision  it  evoked,  —  Mettlich's  horror  and  rage,  Hed- 
wig's  puling  tears,  her  own  triumph,  —  she  took  a 
deep  breath.  Revenge  with  a  vengeance,  retaliation 
for  old  hurts  and  fresh  injuries,  these  were  what  she 


THE  CROWN  PRINCE'S  PILGRIMAGE    343 

found  on  her  knees,  while  the  bell  in  the  valley  com 
menced  the  mass,  and  a  small  boy,  very  rapt  and 
very  earnest,  prayed  for  his  grandfather's  life. 

Yet  the  bargain  came  very  close  to  being  made 
the  other  way  that  day,  and  by  Karl  himself. 

Preparations  were  being  made  for  his  visit  to 
Livonia.  Ostensibly  this  visit  was  made  because  of 
the  King's  illness.  Much  political  capital  was  being 
made  of  Karl's  going  to  see,  for  the  last  time,  the 
long-time  enemy  of  his  house.  While  rumor  was 
busy,  Karnia  was  more  than  satisfied.  Even  the 
Socialist  Party  approved,  and  their  papers,  being 
more  frank  than  the  others,  spoke  openly  of  the 
chances  of  a  dual  kingdom,  the  only  bar  being  a 
small  boy. 

On  the  day  of  the  pilgrimage  Karl  found  himself 
strangely  restless  and  uneasy.  He  had  returned  to 
his  capital  the  day  before,  and  had  busied  himself 
until  late  that  night  with  matters  of  state.  He  had 
slept  well,  and  wakened  to  a  sense  of  well-being. 
But,  during  the  afternoon,  he  became  uneasy.  Olga 
Loschek  haunted  him,  her  face  when  he  had  told  her 
about  the  letter,  her  sagging  figure  when  he  had  left 
her. 

Something  like  remorse  stirred  in  him.  She  had 
taken  great  risks  for  him.  Of  all  the  women  he  had 
known,  she  had  most  truly  and  unselfishly  loved  him. 
And  for  her  years  of  service  he  had  given  her  con 
tempt.  He  reflected,  too,  that  he  had,  perhaps, 
made  an  enemy  where  he  needed  a  friend.  How 


344  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

easy,  by  innuendo  and  suggestion,  to  turn  Hedwig 
against  him,  Hedwig  who  already  fancied  herself 
interested  elsewhere. 

Very  nearly  did  he  swing  the  scale  in  which  Olga 
Loschek  had  hung  her  bargain  with  God  —  so 
nearly  that  in  the  intervals  of  affixing  his  sprawling 
signature  to  various  documents,  he  drew  a  sheet  of 
note-paper  toward  him.  Then,  with  a  shrug,  he 
pushed  it  away.  So  Olga  Loschek  lost  her  bargain. 

At  dawn  the  next  morning  the  Countess,  still  pale 
with  illness  and  burning  with  fever,  went  back  to 
the  city. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

OLD   ADELBERT    THE    TRAITOR 

"THUS,"  said  the  concierge,  frying  onions  over  his 
stove,  —  "thus  have  they  always  done.  But  you 
have  been  blind.  Rather,  you  would  not  see." 

Old  Adelbert  stirred  uneasily.  "So  long  as  I 
accept  my  pension  — " 

"Why  should  you  not  accept  your  pension.  A 
trifle  in  exchange  for  what  you  gave.  For  them,  who 
now  ill-use  you,  you  have  gone  through  life  but  half 
a  man.  Women  smile  behind  their  hands  when  you 
hobble  by." 

"I  do  not  hold  with  women,"  said  old  Adelbert, 
flushing. 

"They  take  all  and  give  nothing."  The  onions 
were  done,  and  the  concierge  put  them,  frying-pan 
and  all,  on  the  table.  "Come,  eat  while  the  food  is 
hot.  And  give  nothing,"  he  repeated,  returning  to 
the  attack.  "You  and  I  ride  in  no  carriages  with  gilt 
wheels.  We  work,  or,  failing  work,  we  starve.  Their 
feet  are  on  our  necks.  But  one  use  they  have  for  us, 
you  and  me,  my  friend  —  to  tax  us." 

"The  taxes  are  not  heavy,"  quoth  old  Adel 
bert. 

'There  are  some  who  find  them  so."  The  con 
cierge  heaped  his  guest's  plate  with  onions.  And  old 


346  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

Adelbert,  who  detested  onions,  and  was  besides  in 
no  mood  for  food,  must  perforce  sample  them. 

"I  can  cook,"  boasted  his  host.  "The  daughter  of 
my  sister  cannot  cook.  She  uses  milk,  always  milk. 
Feeble  dishes,  I  call  them.  Strong  meat  for  strong 
men,  comrade." 

Old  Adelbert  played  with  his  steel  fork.  "I  was 
a  good  patriot,"  he  observed  nervously,  "until  they 
made  me  otherwise." 

"I  will  make  you  a  better.  A  patriot  is  one  who  is 
zealous  for  his  country  and  its  welfare.  That  means 
much.  It  means  that  when  the  established  order  is 
bad  for  a  country,  it  must  be  changed.  Not  that  you 
and  I  may  benefit.  God  knows,  we  may  not  live  to 
benefit.  But  that  Livonia  may  free  her  neck  from 
the  foot  of  the  oppressor,  and  raise  her  head  among 
nations." 

From  which  it  may  be  seen  that  old  Adelbert  had 
at  last  joined  the  revolutionary  party,  an  uneasy 
and  unhappy  recruit,  it  is  true,  but  —  a  recruit.  "If 
only  some  half-measure  would  suffice,"  he  said,  giv 
ing  up  all  pretense  of  eating.  "This  talk  of  rousing 
the  mob,  of  rioting  and  violence,  I  do  not  like  them." 

"Then  has  age  turned  the  blood  in  your  veins  to 
water!"  said  the  concierge  contemptuously.  "Half- 
measures  !  Since  when  has  a  half-measure  been  use 
ful?  Did  half-measures  win  in  your  boasted  battles? 
And  what  half-measures  would  you  propose?" 

Old  Adelbert  sat  silent.  Now  and  then,  because 
his  mouth  was  dry,  he  took  a  sip  of  beer  from  his 


OLD  ADELBERT  THE  TRAITOR         347 

tankard.  The  concierge  ate,  taking  huge  mouthfuls 
of  onions  and  bread,  and  surveying  his  feeble- 
hearted  recruit  with  appraising  eyes.  To  win  him 
would  mean  honor,  for  old  Adelbert,  decorated  for 
many  braveries,  was  a  power  among  the  veterans. 
Where  he  led,  others  would  follow. 

"Make  no  mistake,"  said  Black  Humbert  cun 
ningly.  "We  aim  at  no  bloodshed.  A  peaceful  revo 
lution,  if  possible.  The  King,  being  dead,  will  suffer 
not  even  humiliation.  Let  the  royal  family  scatter 
where  it  will.  We  have  no  designs  on  women.  The 
Chancellor,  however,  must  die." 

"I  make  no  plea  for  him,"  said  old  Adelbert  bit 
terly.  "  I  wrote  to  him  also,  when  I  lost  my  position, 
and  received  no  reply.  We  passed  through  the  same 
campaigns,  as  I  reminded  him,  but  he  did  nothing." 

"As  for  the  Crown  Prince,"  observed. the  con 
cierge,  eyeing  the  old  man  over  the  edge  of  his 
tankard,  "you  know  our  plan  for  him.  He  will  be 
cared  for  as  my  own  child,  until  we  get  him  beyond 
the  boundaries.  Then  he  will  be  safely  delivered  to 
those  who  know  nothing  of  his  birth.  A  private 
fund  of  the  Republic  will  support  and  educate  him." 

Old  Adelbert's  hands  twitched.  "He  is  but  a 
child,"  he  said,  "but  already  he  knows  his  rank." 

"It  will  be  wise  for  him  to  forget  it."  His  tone 
was  ominous.  Adelbert  glanced  up  quickly,  but  the 
Terrorist  had  seen  his  error,  and  masked  it  with  a 
grin.  "Children  forget  easily,"  he  said,  "and  by  this 
secret  knowledge  of  yours,  old  comrade,  all  can  be 


348  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

peacefully  done.  Until  you  brought  it  to  me,  we 
were,  I  confess,  fearful  that  force  would  be  neces 
sary.  To  admit  the  rabble  to  the  Palace  would  be 
dangerous.  Mobs  go  mad  at  such  moments.  But 
now  it  may  be  effected  with  all  decency  and  order! " 

"And  the  plan?" 

"I  may  tell  you  this."  The  concierge  shoved  his 
plate  away  and  bent  over  the  table.  "We  have  set 
the  day  as  that  of  the  Carnival.  On  that  day  all  the 
people  are  on  the  streets.  Processions  are  forbidden, 
but  the  usual  costuming  with  their  corps  colors  as 
pompons  is  allowed.  Here  and  there  will  be  one  of 
us  clad  in  red,  a  devil,  wearing  the  colors  of  His 
Satanic  Majesty.  Those  will  be  of  our  forces,  leaders 
and  speech-makers.  When  we  secure  the  Crown 
Prince,  he  will  be  put  into  costume  until  he  can  be 
concealed.  They  will  seek,  if  there  be  time,  the 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto.  Who  will  suspect  a 
child,  wearing  some  fantastic  garb  of  the  Carnival?" 

"But  the  King?"  inquired  old  Adelbert  in  a  shak 
ing  voice.  "How  can  you  set  a  day,  when  the  King 
may  rally?  I  thought  all  hung  on  the  King's  death." 

The  concierge  bent  closer  over  the  table.  "  Doctor 
Weiderman,  the  King's  physician,  is  one  of  us,"  he 
whispered.  "The  King  lives  now  only  because  of 
stimulants  to  the  heart.  His  body  is  already  dead. 
When  the  stimulants  cease,  he  will  die." 

Old  Adelbert  covered  his  eyes.  He  had  gone  too 
far  to  retreat  now.  Driven  by  brooding  and  trouble, 
he  had  allied  himself  with  the  powers  of  darkness. 


OLD  ADELBERT  THE  TRAITOR         349 

The  stain,  he  felt,  was  already  on  his  forehead.  But 
before  him,  like  a  picture  on  a  screen,  came  the 
scene  by  which  he  had  lived  for  so  many  years,  the 
war  hospital,  the  King  by  his  bed,  young  then  and 
a  very  king  in  looks,  pinning  on  the  breast  of  his 
muslin  shirt  the  decoration  for  bravery. 

He  sat  silent  while  the  concierge  cleared  the  table, 
and  put  the  dishes  in  a  pan  for  his  niece  to  wash. 
And  throughout  the  evening  he  said  little.  At  some 
thing  before  midnight  he  and  his  host  were  to  set 
out  on  a  grave  matter,  nothing  less  than  to  visit  the 
Committee  of  Ten,  and  impart  the  old  soldier's  dis 
covery.  In  the  interval  he  sat  waiting,  and  nursing 
his  grievances  to  keep  them  warm. 

Men  came  and  went.  From  beneath  the  floor 
came,  at  intervals,  a  regular  thudding  which  he  had 
never  heard  before,  and  which  he  now  learned  was  a 
press. 

"These  are  days  of  publicity,"  explained  the  con 
cierge.  "Men  are  influenced  much  by  the  printed 
word.  Already  our  bulletins  flood  the  country.  On 
the  day  of  the  Carnival  the  city  will  flame  with  them, 
printed  in  red.  They  will  appear,  as  if  by  magic 
power,  everywhere." 

"A  call  to  arms?" 

"A  call  to  liberty,"  evaded  the  concierge. 

Not  in  months  had  he  taken  such  pleasure  in  a 
recruit.  He  swaggered  about  the  room,  recounting 
in  boastful  tones  his  influence  with  the  Committee 
of  Ten. 


350  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

"And  with  reason,"  he  boasted,  pausing  before 
the  old  soldier.  "I  have  served  them  well;  here  in 
this  house  is  sufficient  ammunition  to  fight  a  great 
battle.  You,  now,  you  know  something  of  ammuni 
tion.  You  have  lived  here  for  a  long  time.  Yet  no 
portion  of  this  house  has  been  closed  to  you.  Where, 
at  a  guess,  is  it  concealed?" 

"It  is  in  this  house?" 

"So  I  tell  you.    Now,  where?" 

"In  the  cellar,  perhaps." 

"Come,  I  will  show  you."  He  led  old  Adelbert 
by  the  elbow  to  a  window  overlooking  the  yard. 
Just  such  an  enclosure  as  each  of  the  neighboring 
houses  possessed,  and  surrounded  by  a  high  fence. 
Here  was  a  rabbit  hutch,  built  of  old  boards,  and 
familiar  enough  to  the  veteran's  eyes;  and  a  dove 
cote,  which  loomed  now  but  a  deeper  shadow  among 
shadows. 

"Carrier-pigeons,"  explained  the  concierge.  "You 
have  seen  them  often,  but  you  suspected  nothing, 
eh?  They  are  my  telegraph.  Now,  look  again,  com 
rade.  What  else?" 

"Barrels,"  said  old  Adelbert,  squinting.  "The 
winter's  refuse  from  the  building.  A  —  a  most  un 
tidy  spot." 

His  soldierly  soul  had  revolted  for  months  at  the 
litter  under  his  window.  And  somewhere,  in  the 
disorder,  lay  his  broken  sword.  His  sword  broken, 
and  he  — 

"Truly  untidy,"  observed  the  concierge  compla- 


OLD  ADELBERT  THE  TRAITOR         351 

cently.  "A  studied  untidiness,  and  even  then  better 
than  a  room  I  shall  show  you  in  the  cellar,  filled  to 
overflowing  with  boxes  containing  the  winter's  ashes. 
Know  you,"  he  went  on,  dropping  his  voice,  "that 
these  barrels  and  boxes  are  but  a  third  full  of  rub 
bish.  Below  that  in  cases  is  —  what  we  speak  of." 

"  But  I  thought  —  a  peaceful  revolution,  a  - 

"We  prepare  for  contingencies.  Peace  if  possible. 
If  not,  war.  I  am  telling  you  much  because,  by  your 
oath,  you  are  now  one  of  us,  and  bound  to  secrecy. 
But,  beside  that,  I  trust  you.  You  are  a  man  of  your 
word." 

"Yes,"  said  old  Adelbert,  drawing  himself  up. 
"I  am  a  man  of  my  word.  But  you  cannot  fight 
with  cartridges  alone." 

"We  have  rifles,  also,  in  other  places.  Even  I  do 
not  know  where  all  of  them  are  concealed."  The 
concierge  chuckled  in  his  beard.  "The  Committee 
knows  men  well.  It  trusts  none  too  much.  There 
are  other  depots  throughout  the  city,  each  contain 
ing  supplies  of  one  sort  and  another.  On  the  day  of 
the  uprising  each  patriot  will  be  told  where  to  go  for 
equipment.  Not  before." 

Old  Adelbert  was  undoubtedly  impressed  He 
regarded  the  concierge  with  furtive  eyes.  He,  Adel 
bert,  had  lived  in  the  house  with  this  man  of  parts 
for  years,  and  had  regarded  him  as  but  one  of  many. 

Black  Humbert,  waiting  for  the  hour  to  start  and 
filling  his  tankard  repeatedly,  grew  loquacious.  He 
hinted  of  past  matters  in  which  he  had  proved  his 


352  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

value  to  the  cause.  Old  Adelbert  gathered  that,  if 
he  had  not  actually  murdered  the  late  Crown  Prince 
and  his  wife,  he  had  been  closely  concerned  in  it. 
His  thin,  old  flesh  crept  with  anxiety.  It  was  a  bad 
business,  and  he  could  not  withdraw. 

"We  should  have  had  the  child,  too,"  boasted  the 
concierge,  "and  saved  much  bother.  But  he  had 
been,  unknown  to  us,  sent  to  the  country.  A  matter 
of  milk,  I  believe." 

"But  you  say  you  do  not  war  on  children!" 

"Bah!  A  babe  of  a  few  months.  Furthermore," 
said  the  concierge,  "I  have  a  nose  for  the  police.  I 
scent  a  spy,  as  a  dog  scents  a  bone.  Who,  think  you, 
discovered  Haeckel?" 

"Haeckel ! "  Old  Adelbert  sat  upright  in  his  chair. 

"Aye,  Haeckel,  Haeckel  the  jovial,  the  arch- 
conspirator,  who  himself  assisted  to  erect  the  press 
you  hear  beneath  your  feet.  Who  but  I  ?  I  suspected 
him.  He  was  too  fierce.  He  had  no  caution.  He  was 
what  a  peaceful  citizen  may  fancy  a  revolutionist 
to  be.  I  watched  him.  He  was  not  brave.  He  was 
reckless  because  he  had  nothing  to  fear.  And  at  last 
I  caught  him." 

Old  Adelbert  was  sitting  forward  on  the  edge  of 
his  chair,  his  jaw  dropped.  "And  what  then?"  he 
gasped.  "He  was  but  a  boy.  Perhaps  you  misjudged 
him.  Boys  are  reckless." 

"I  caught  him,"  said  the  concierge.  "I  have  said 
it.  He  knew  much.  He  had  names,  places,  even 
dates.  For  that  matter,  he  confessed." 


OLD  ADELBERT  THE  TRAITOR         353 

"Then  he  is  dead?"  quavered  old  Adelbert. 

The  concierge  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Of 
course,"  he  said  briefly.  "For  a  time  he  was  kept 
here,  in  an  upper  room.  He  could  have  saved  him 
self,  if  he  would.  We  could  have  used  him.  But  he 
turned  sulky,  refused  speech,  did  not  eat.  When  he 
was  taken  away,"  he  added  with  unction,  "he  was  so 
weak  that  he  could  not  walk."  He  rose  and  con 
sulted  a  great  silver  watch.  "We  can  go  now,"  he 
said.  "The  Committee  likes  promptness." 

They  left  together,  the  one  striding  out  with  long 
steps  that  were  surprisingly  light  for  his  size,  the 
other,  hanging  back  a  trifle,  as  one  who  walks  be 
cause  he  must.  Old  Adelbert,  who  had  loved  his 
King  better  than  his  country,  was  a  lagging  "pa 
triot"  that  night.  His  breath  came  short  and 
labored.  His  throat  was  dry.  As  they  passed  the 
Opera,  however,  he  threw  his  head  up.  The  per 
formance  was  over,  but  the  great  house  was  still 
lighted,  and  in  the  foyer,  strutting  about,  was  his 
successor.  Old  Adelbert  quickened  his  steps. 

At  the  edge  of  the  Place,  near  the  statue  of  the 
Queen,  they  took  a  car,  and  so  reached  the  borders 
of  the  city.  After  that  they  walked  far.  The  scent 
of  the  earth,  fresh-turned  by  the  plough,  was  in  their 
nostrils.  Cattle,  turned  out  after  the  long  winter, 
grazed  or  lay  in  the  fields.  Through  the  ooze  of  the 
road  the  two  plodded;  old  Adelbert  struggling 
through  with  difficulty,  the  concierge  exhorting  him 
impatiently  to  haste. 


354  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

At  last  the  leader  paused,  and  surveyed  his  sur 
roundings:  "Here  I  must  cover  your  eyes,  com 
rade,"  he  said.  "It  is  a  formality  all  must  comply 
with." 

Old  Adelbert  drew  back.  "  I  do  not  like  your  rule. 
I  am  not  as  other  men.  I  must  see  where  I  go." 

"  I  shall  lead  you  carefully.  And,  if  you  fear,  I  can 
carry  you."  He  chuckled  at  the  thought.  But  old 
Adelbert  knew  well  that  he  could  do  it,  knew  that  he 
was  as  a  child  to  those  mighty  arms.  He  submitted 
to  the  bandage,  however,  with  an  ill  grace  that 
caused  the  concierge  to  smile. 

"It  hurts  your  dignity,  eh,  old  rooster!"  he  said 
jovially.  "Others,  of  greater  dignity,  have  felt  the 
same.  But  all  submit  in  the  end." 

He  piloted  the  veteran  among  the  graves  with  the 
ease  of  familiarity.  Only  once  he  spoke.  "Know 
you  where  you  are?" 

"In  a  field,"  said  Adelbert,  "recently  ploughed." 

"Aye,  in  a  field,  right  enough.  But  one  which 
sows  corruption,  and  raises  nothing,  until  perhaps 
great  St.  Gabriel  calls  in  his  crop." 

Then,  realizing  the  meaning  of  the  mounds  over 
which  he  trod,  old  Adelbert  crossed  himself. 

"Only  a  handful  know  of  this  meeting-place," 
boasted  the  concierge.  "I,  and  a  few  others.  Only 
we  may  meet  with  the  Committee  face  to  face." 

"You  must  have  great  influence,"  observed  old 
Adelbert  timidly. 

"I  control  the  guilds.    He  who  to-day  can  sway 


OLD  ADELBERT  THE  TRAITOR          355 

labor  to  his  will  is  powerful;  very  powerful,  com 
rade.  Labor  is  the  great  beast  which  tires  of  carrying 
burdens,  and  is  but  now  learning  its  strength." 

"Aye,"  said  old  Adelbert.  "Had  I  been  wise,  I 
would  have  joined  a  guild.  Then  I  might  have  kept 
my  place  at  the  Opera.  As  it  is,  I  stood  alone,  and 
they  put  me  out." 

"You  do  not  stand  alone  now.  Stand  by  us,  and 
we  will  support  you.  The  Republic  will  not  forget 
its  friends." 

Thus  heartened,  old  Adelbert  brightened  up  some 
what.  Why  should  he,  an  old  soldier,  sweat  at  the 
thought  of  blood?  Great  changes  required  heroic 
measures.  It  was  because  he  was  old  that  he  feared 
change.  He  stumped  through  the  passageway  with 
out  urging,  and  stood  erect  and  with  shoulders 
squared  while  the  bandage  was  removed. 

He  was  rather  longer  than  Olga  Loschek  had  been 
in  comprehending  his  surroundings.  His  old  eyes 
at  first  saw  little  but  the  table  and  its  candles  in 
their  gruesome  holders.  But  when  he  saw  the  Com 
mittee  his  heart  failed.  Here,  embodied  before  him, 
was  everything  he  had  loathed  during  all  his  upright 
and  loyal  years  —  anarchy,  murder,  treason.  His 
face  worked.  The  cords  in  his  neck  stood  out  like 
strings  drawn  to  the  breaking-point. 

The  concierge  was  speaking.  For  all  his  boasting, 
he  was  ill  at  ease.  His  voice  had  lost  its  bravado,  and 
had  taken  on  a  fawning  note. 

"This  is  the  man  of  whom  word  was  sent  to  the 


356  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

Committee,"  he  said.  "  I  ventured  to  ask  that  he  be 
allowed  to  come  here,  because  he  brings  information 
of  value." 

"Step  forward,  comrade,"  said  the  leader.  "What 
is  your  name  and  occupation?" 

"Adelbert,  Excellency.  As  to  occupation,  for 
years  I  was  connected  with  the  Opera.  Twenty 
years,  Excellency.  Then  I  grew  old,  and  another  — 
His  voice  broke.  What  with  excitement  and  terror, 
he  was  close  to  tears.  "Now  I  am  reduced  to  selling 
tickets  for  an  American  contrivance,  a  foolish  thing, 
but  I  earn  my  bread  by  it." 

He  paused,  but  the  silence  continued  unbroken. 
The  battery  of  eyes  behind  the  masks  was  turned 
squarely  on  him. 

Old  Adelbert  fidgeted.  "Before  that,  in  years 
gone  by,  I  was  in  the  army,"  he  said,  feeling  that 
more  was  expected  of  him,  and  being  at  a  loss.  "I 
fought  hard,  and  once,  when  I  suffered  the  loss  you 
perceive,  the  King  himself  came  to  my  bed,  and 
decorated  me.  Until  lately,  I  have  been  loyal.  Now, 
I  am  —  here."  His  face  worked. 

"What  is  the  information  that  brings  you  here?" 

Suddenly  old  Adelbert  wept,  terrible  tears  that 
forced  their  way  from  his  faded  eyes,  and  ran  down 
his  cheeks.  "I  cannot,  Excellencies!"  he  cried.  "I 
find  I  cannot." 

He  collapsed  into  the  chair,  and  throwing  his 
arms  across  the  table  bowed  his  head  on  them.  His 
shoulders  heaved  under  his  old  uniform.  The  Com- 


OLD  ADELBERT  THE  TRAITOR         357 

mittee  stirred,  and  the  concierge  caught  him  bru 
tally  by  the  wrist. 

"Up  with  you!"  he  said,  from  clenched  teeth. 
"What  stupidity  is  this?  Would  you  play  with 
death?" 

But  old  Adelbert  was  beyond  fear.  He  shook  his 
head.  "I  cannot,"  he  muttered,  his  face  hidden. 

Then  the  concierge  stood  erect  and  folded  his 
arms  across  his  chest.  "He  is  terrified,  that  is  all," 
he  said.  "If  the  Committee  wishes,  I  can  tell  them 
of  this  matter.  Later,  he  can  be  interrogated." 

The  leader  nodded. 

"By  chance,"  said  the  concierge,  "this  —  this 
brave  veteran"  -he  glanced  contemptuously  at 
the  huddled  figure  in  the  chair—  "has  come  across 
an  old  passage,  the  one  which  rumor  has  said  lay 
under  the  city  wall,  and  for  which  we  have  at  differ 
ent  times  instituted  search." 

He  paused,  to  give  his  words  weight.  That  they 
were  of  supreme  interest  could  be  told  by  the  cran 
ing  forward  of  the  Committee. 

"The  entrance  is  concealed  at  the  base  of  the  old 
Gate  of  the  Moon.  Our  friend  here  followed  it,  and 
reports  it  in  good  condition.  For  a  mile  or  there 
abouts  it  follows  the  line  of  the  destroyed  wall. 
Then  it  turns  and  goes  to  the  Palace  itself." 

11  Into  the  Palace?" 

"By  a  flight  of  stairs,  inside  the  wall,  to  a  door  in 
the  roof.  This  door,  which  was  locked,  he  opened, 
having  carried  keys  with  him.  The  door  he  de- 


358  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

scribes  as  in  the  tower.  As  it  was  night,  he  could 
not  see  clearly,  but  the  roof  at  that  point  is  flat." 

"Stand  up,  Adelbert,"  said  the  leader  sharply. 
"This  that  our  comrade  tells  is  true?" 

"It  is  true,  Excellency." 

"Shown  a  diagram  of  the  Palace,  could  you  locate 
this  door?" 

Old  Adelbert  stared  around  him  hopelessly.  It 
was  done  now.  Nothing  that  he  could  say  or  refuse 
to  say  would  change  that.  He  nodded. 

When,  soon  after,  a  chart  of  the  Palace  was  placed 
on  a  table,  he  indicated  the  location  of  the  door 
with  a  trembling  forefinger.  "It  is  there,"  he  said 
thickly.  "And  may  God  forgive  me  for  the  thing  I 
have  done!" 


CHAPTER  XXX 

KING    KARL 

"THEY  love  us  dearly!"  said  King  Karl. 

The  Chancellor,  who  sat  beside  him  in  the  royal 
carriage,  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "They  have  had 
little  reason  to  love,  in  the  past,  Majesty,"  he  said 
briefly. 

Karl  laughed,  and  watched  the  crowd.  He  and 
the  Chancellor  rode  alone,  Karl's  entourage,  a  very 
modest  one,  following  in  another  carriage.  There 
was  no  military  escort,  no  pomp.  It  had  been  felt 
unwise.  Karl,  paying  ostensibly  a  visit  of  sympathy, 
had  come  unofficially.  » 

"But  surely,"  he  observed,  as  they  passed  be 
tween  sullen  lines  of  people,  mostly  silent,  but  now 
and  then  giving  way  to  a  muttering  that  sounded 
ominously  like  a  snarl,  -  "surely  I  may  make  a  visit 
of  sympathy  without  exciting  their  wrath!" 

"They  are  children,"  said  Mettlich  contemptu 
ously.  "Let  one  growl,  and  all  growl.  Let  some  one 
start  a  cheer,  and  they  will  cheer  themselves  hoarse." 

"Then  let  some  one  cheer,  for  God's  sake!"  said 
Karl,  and  turned  his  mocking  smile  to  the  packed 
streets. 

The  Chancellor  was  not  so  calm  as  he  appeared. 
He  had  lined  the  route  from  the  station  to  the  Pal- 


36o  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

ace  with  his  men;  had  prepared  for  every  contin 
gency  so  far  as  he  could  without  calling  out  the 
guard.  As  the  carriage,  drawn  by  its  four  chestnut 
horses,  moved  slowly  along  the  streets,  his  eyes  un 
der  their  overhanging  thatch  were  watching  ahead, 
searching  the  crowd  for  symptoms  of  unrest. 

Anger  he  saw  in  plenty,  and  suspicion.  Scowling 
faces  and  frowning  brows.  But  as  yet  there  was  no 
disorder.  He  sat  with  folded  arms,  magnificent  in 
his  uniform  beside  Karl,  who  wore  civilian  dress  and 
looked  less  royal  than  perhaps  he  felt. 

And  Karl,  too,  watched  the  crowd,  feeling  its 
temper  and  feigning  an  indifference  he  did  not  feel. 
Olga  Loschek  had  been  right.  He  did  not  want 
trouble.  More  than  that,  he  was  of  an  age  now  to 
crave  popularity.  Many  of  the  measures  which  had 
made  him  beloved  in  his  own  land  had  no  higher 
purpose  than  this,  the  smiles  of  the  crowd.  So  he 
watched  and  talked  of  indifferent  things. 

"It  is  ten  years  since  I  have  been  here,"  he  ob 
served,  "but  there  are  few  changes." 

"We  have  built  no  great  buildings,"  said  Mett- 
lich  bluntly.  "Wars  have  left  us  no  money,  Majesty, 
for  building!" 

That  being  a  closed  road,  so  to  speak,  Karl  tried 
another.  "The  Crown  Prince  must  be  quite  a  lad," 
he  experimented.  "He  was  a  babe  in  arms,  then, 
but  frail,  I  thought." 

"  He  is  sturdy  now."  The  Chancellor  relapsed  into 
watchfulness. 


KING   KARL  361 

"Before  I  see  the  Princess  Hedwig,"  Karl  made 
another  attempt,  "it  might  be  well  to  tell  me  how 
she  feels  about  things.  I  would  like  to  feel  that  the 
prospect  is  at  least  not  disagreeable  to  her." 

The  Chancellor  was  not  listening.  There  was 
trouble  ahead.  It  had  come,  then,  after  all.  He  mut 
tered  something  behind  his  gray  mustache.  The 
horses  stopped,  as  the  crowd  suddenly  closed  in 
front  of  them. 

"Drive  on!"  he  said  angrily,  and  the  coachman 
touched  his  whip  to  the  horses.  But  they  only 
reared,  to  be  grasped  at  the  bridles  by  hostile  hands 
ahead. 

Karl  half  rose  from  his  seat. 

"Sit  still,  Majesty,"  said  the  Chancellor.  "It  is 
the  students.  They  will  talk,  that  is  all." 

But  it  came  perilously  near  to  being  a  riot.  Led 
by  some  students,  pushed  by  others,  the  crowd  sur 
rounded  the  two  carriages,  first  muttering,  then 
yelling.  A  stone  was  hurled,  and  struck  one  of  the 
horses.  Another  dented  the  body  of  the  carriage 
itself.  A  man  with  a  handkerchief  tied  over  the 
lower  half  of  his  face  mounted  the  shoulders  of 
two  companions,  and  harangued  the  crowd.  They 
wanted  no  friendship  with  Karnia.  There  were  those 
who  would  sell  them  out  to  their  neighbor  and  enemy. 
Were  they  to  lose  their  national  existence?  He  ex 
horted  them  madly  through  the  handkerchief. 
Others,  further  back,  also  raised  above  the  mob, 
shrieked  treason,  and  called  the  citizens  to  arm 


362  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

against  this  thing.  A  Babel  of  noise,  of  swinging 
back  and  forth,  of  mounted  police  pushing  through 
to  surround  the  carnage,  of  cries  and  the  dominat 
ing  voices  of  the  student-demagogues.  Then  at  last 
a  semblance  of  order,  low  muttering,  an  escort  of 
police  with  drawn  revolvers  around  the  carriage, 
and  it  moved  ahead. 

Through  it  all  the  Chancellor  had  sat  with  folded 
arms.  Only  his  livid  face  told  of  his  fury.  Karl,  too, 
had  sat  impassive,  picking  at  his  small  mustache. 
But,  as  the  carriage  moved  on,  he  said:  "A  few  mo 
ments  ago  I  observed  that  there  had  been  few 
changes.  But  there  has  been,  I  perceive,  after  all,  a 
great  change." 

"One  cannot  judge  the  many  by  the  few,  Majesty." 

But  Karl  only  raised  his  eyebrows. 

In  his  rooms,  removing  the  dust  of  his  journey, 
broken  by  the  automobile  trip  across  the  mountains 
where  the  two  railroads  would  some  day  meet,  Karl 
reflected  on  the  situation.  His  amour-propre  was 
hurt.  Things  should  have  been  better  managed,  for 
one  thing.  It  was  inexcusable  that  he  had  been  sub 
jected  to  such  a  demonstration.  But,  aside  from  the 
injury  to  his  pride,  was  a  deeper  question.  If  this 
was  the  temper  of  the  people  now,  what  would  it  be 
when  they  found  their  suspicions  j  ustified  ?  Had  Olga 
Loschek  been  right  after  all,  and  not  merely  jealous? 
And  if  she  were,  was  the  game  worth  the  candle? 

Pacing  the  drawing-room  of  his  suite  with  a  cig 
arette,  and  cursing  the  tables  and  bric-a-brac  with 


KING   KARL  363 

which  it  was  cluttered,  Karl  was  of  a  mind  to  turn 
back,  after  all,  Even  the  prospect  which  his  Minis 
ters  had  not  failed  to  recognize,  of  the  Crown  Prince 
never  reaching  his  maturity,  was  a  less  pleasing  one 
than  it  had  been.  A  dual  monarchy,  one  portion  of 
it  restless  and  revolutionary,  was  less  desirable  than 
the  present  peace  and  prosperity  of  Karnia.  And 
unrest  was  contagious.  He  might  find  himself  in  a 
difficult  position. 

He  was,  indeed,  even  now  in  a  difficult  position. 

He  glanced  about  his  rooms.  In  one  of  them 
Prince  Hubert  had  met  his  death.  It  was  well 
enough  for  Mettlich  to  say  the  few  could  not  speak 
for  the  many.  It  took  but  one  man  to  do  a  murder, 
Karl  reflected  grimly. 

But  when  he  arrived  for  tea  in  the  Archduchess's 
white  drawing-room  he  was  urbane  and  smiling. 
Hedwig,  standing  with  cold  hands  and  terrified  eyes 
by  the  tea-table,  disliked  both  his  urbanity  and  his 
smile.  He  kissed  the  hand  of  the  Archduchess  and 
bent  over  Hedwig's  with  a  flash  of  white  teeth. 

Then  he  saw  Olga  Loschek,  and  his  smile  stiffened. 
The  Countess  came  forward,  curtsied,  and  as  he  ex 
tended  his  hand  to  her,  touched  it  lightly  with  her 
lips.  They  were  quite  cold.  For  just  an  instant  their 
eyes  met. 

It  was,  on  the  surface,  an  amiable  and  quiet  tea- 
party.  Hilda,  in  a  new  frock,  flirted  openly  with  the 
King,  and  read  his  fortune  in  tea-leaves.  Hedwig 
had  taken  up  her  position  by  a  window,  and  was 


364  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

conspicuously  silent.  Behind  her  were  the  soft  ring 
of  silver  against  china,  the  Countess's  gay  tones, 
Karl's  suave  ones,  assuming  gravity,  as  he  inquired 
for  His  Majesty;  the  Archduchess  Annunciata  pre 
tending  a  solicitude  she  did  not  feel.  And  all  forced, 
all  artificial,  Olga  Loschek's  heart  burning  in  her, 
and  Karl  watching  Hedwig  with  open  admiration 
and  some  anxiety. 

"Grandmother,"  Hedwig  whispered  from  her 
window  to  the  austere  old  bronze  figure  in  the 
Place,  "was  it  like  this  with  you,  at  first?  Did  you 
shiver  when  he  touched  your  hand?  And  doesn't 
it  matter,  after  a  year?" 

"Very  feeble,"  said  the  Archduchess's  voice,  be 
hind  her,  "but  so  brave  —  a  lesson  to  us  all." 

"He  has  had  a  long  and  conspicuous  career," 
Karl  observed.  "It  is  sad,  but  we  must  all  come  to 
it.  I  hope  he  will  be  able  to  see  me." 

"Hedwig!"  said  her  mother,  sharply,  "your  tea 
is  getting  cold." 

Hedwig  turned  toward  the  room.  Listlessness 
gave  her  an  added  dignity,  a  new  charm.  Karl's  eyes 
flamed  as  he  watched  her.  He  was  a  connoisseur 
in  women;  he  had  known  many  who  were  perhaps 
more  regularly  beautiful,  but  none,  he  felt,  so  lovely. 
Her  freshness  and  youth  made  Olga,  beautifully 
dressed,  superbly  easy,  look  sophisticated  and  a 
trifle  hard.  Even  her  coldness  appealed  to  him.  He 
had  a  feeling  that  the  coldness  was  only  a  young 
girl's  armor,  that  under  it  was  a  deeply  passionate 


KING   KARL  365 

woman.  The  thought  of  seeing  her  come  to  deep, 
vibrant  life  in  his  arms  thrilled  him. 

When  he  carried  her  tea  to  her,  he  bent  over  her. 
"Please!"  he  said.  "Try  to  like  me.  I  — " 

"  I  'm  sorry,"  Hedwig  said  quickly.  "  Mother  has 
forgotten  the  lemon." 

Karl  smiled  and,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  fetched 
the  lemon.  "Right,  now?"  he  inquired.  "And 
are  n't  we  going  to  have  a  talk  together?" 

"  If  you  wish  it,  I  dare  say  we  shall." 

"Majesty,"  said  Hilda,  frowning  into  her  teacup. 
"  I  see  a  marriage  for  you."  She  ignored  her  mother's 
scowl,  and  tilted  her  cup  to  examine  it. 

"A  marriage!"  Karl  joined  her,  and  peered  with 
mock  anxiety  at  the  tea-grounds.  "Strange  that 
my  fate  should  be  confined  in  so  small  a  compass! 
A  happy  marriage?  Which  am  I?" 

"The  long  yellow  leaf.  Yes,  it  looks  happy.  But 
you  may  be  rather  shocked  when  I  tell  you." 

"Shocked?" 

"I  think,"  said  Hilda,  grinning,  "that  you  are 
going  to  marry  me." 

"Delightful!" 

"And  we  are  going  to  have  - 

"Hilda!"  cried  the  Archduchess  fretfully,  "Do 
stop  that  nonsense  and  let  us  talk.  I  was  trying  to 
recall,  this  morning,"  she  said  to  Karl,  "when  you 
last  visited  us."  She  knew  it  quite  well,  but  she  pre 
ferred  having  Karl  think  she  had  forgotten.  "  It  was, 
I  believe,  just  before  Hubert  — 


366  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

"Yes,"  said  Karl  gravely,  "just  before." 

"Otto  was  a  baby  then." 

"A  very  small  child.  I  remember  that  I  was  afraid 
to  handle  him." 

"He  is  a  curious  boy,  old  beyond  his  years. 
Rather  a  little  prig,  I  think.  He  has  an  English 
governess,  and  she  has  made  him  quite  a  little 
woman." 

Karl  laughed,  but  Hedwig  flushed. 

"He  is  not  that  sort  at  all,"  she  declared  stoutly. 
"He  is  lonely  and  —  and  rather  pathetic.  The  truth 
is  that  no  one  really  cares  for  him,  except  - 

"Except  Captain  Larisch!"  said  the  Archduchess 
smoothly.  "You  and  he,  Hedwig,  have  done  your 
best  by  him,  surely." 

The  bit  of  byplay  was  not  lost  on  Karl  —  the 
sudden  stiffening  of  Hedwig's  back,  Olga's  narrowed 
eyes.  Olga  had  been  right,  then.  Trust  her  for  know 
ing  facts  when  they  were  disagreeable.  His  eyes  be 
came  set  and  watchful,  hard,  too,  had  any  noticed. 
There  were  ways  to  deal  with  such  a  situation,  of 
course.  They  were  giving  him  this  girl  to  secure  their 
own  safety,  and  she  knew  it.  Had  he  not  been  so 
mad  about  her  he  might  have  pitied  her,  but  he  felt 
no  pity,  only  a  deep  and  resentful  determination  to 
get  rid  of  Nikky,  and  then  to  warm  her  by  his  own 
fire.  He  might  have  to  break  her  first.  After  that 
manner  had  many  Queens  of  Karnia  come  to  the 
throne.  He  smiled  behind  his  small  mustache. 

When  tea  was  almost  over,  the  Crown  Prince  was 


KING   KARL  367 

announced.  He  came  in,  rather  nervously,  with  his 
hands  thrust  in  his  trousers  pockets.  He  was  very 
shiny  with  soap  and  water  and  his  hair  was  still 
damp  from  parting.  In  his  tailless  black  jacket,  his 
long  gray  trousers,  and  his  round  Eton  collar,  he 
looked  like  a  very  anxious  little  schoolboy,  and  not 
royal  at  all. 

Greetings  over,  and  having  requested  that  his  tea 
be  half  milk,  with  four  lumps  of  sugar,  he  carried  his 
cup  over  beside  Hedwig,  and  sat  down  on  a  chair. 
Followed  a  short  silence,  with  the  Archduchess  busy 
with  the  tea-things,  Olga  Loschek  watching  Karl, 
and  Karl  intently  surveying  the  Crown  Prince. 
Ferdinand  William  Otto,  who  disliked  a  silence, 
broke  it  first. 

"I've  just  taken  off  my  winter  flannels,"  he  ob 
served.  "I  feel  very  smooth  and  nice  underneath." 

Hilda  giggled,  but  Hedwig  reached  over  and 
stroked  his  arm.  "Of  course  you  do,"  she  said 
gently. 

"Nikky,"  continued  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto,  stirring  his  tea,  "does  not  wear  any  flannels. 
Miss  Braithwaite  thinks  he  is  very  careless." 

King  Karl's  eyes  gleamed  with  amusement.  He 
saw  the  infuriated  face  of  the  Archduchess,  and  bent 
toward  the  Crown  Prince  with  earnestness. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  said,  "since  you  have 
mentioned  the  subject,  I  do  not  wear  any  either. 
Your  '  Nikky '  and  I  seem  most  surprisingly  to  have 
the  same  tastes —  about  various  things." 


368  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

''Do  you  like  dogs?"  inquired  the  Crown  Prince, 
much  interested. 

"Dogs!  Why,  yes.  I  have  quite  a  number  of 
dogs." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  nicer  to  have  just  one 
dog,  and  be  very  fond  of  it.  But  I  suppose  they 
would  eat  a  great  deal.  Do  you  believe  in  love  at 
first  sight?" 

"Otto ! "  said  the  Archduchess,  extremely  shocked. 

He  turned  to  her  apologetically.  "I  was  only 
trying  to  find  out  how  many  things  he  and  Nikky 
agreed  about,"  he  explained.  "Nikky  believes  in 
love  at  first  sight.  He  says  it  is  the  only  real  kind  of 
love,  because  love  is  n't  a  thing  you  think  out.  You 
only  feel  it." 

The  Archduchess  met  Karl's  eyes.  "You  see!" 
she  said. 

"But  it  is  sound  doctrine,"  Karl  observed,  bend 
ing  forward  and  with  a  slanting  glance  at  Hedwig. 
"I  quite  agree  with  him  again.  And  this  friend  of 
yours,  he  thinks  love  is  the  only  thing  in  the  world, 
I  dare  say?" 

"Well,  he  thinks  a  great  deal  of  it.  But  he  says 
that  love  of  country  comes  first,  before  anything 
else." 

The  Archduchess  glanced  at  Hedwig  furiously. 
The  girl  had  closed  her  eyes,  and  was  sitting,  de 
tached  and  pale.  She  would  have  liked  to  box  her 
ears.  Karl  was  no  fool,  and  there  was  talk  enough. 
He  would  hear  it,  of  course. 


KING   KARL  369 

"Tell  us  about  your  pilgrimage,  Otto,"  she  sug 
gested. 

"Well,  I  went, "said  the  Crown  Prince  reflectively. 
"We  walked  a  long  time,  and  it  was  very  warm.  I 
have  quite  a  large  blister,  and  the  Archbishop  had 
to  take  his  shoes  off  and  walk  in  his  stockings,  be 
cause  his  feet  hurt.  No  one  saw.  It  was  on  a  coun 
try  lane.  But  I  'm  afraid  it  did  n't  do  very  much 
good."  He  drew  a  long  breath. 

"No?"  Karl  inquired. 

Suddenly  the  boy's  chin  quivered.  He  was  terri 
bly  afraid  he  was  going  to  cry,  and  took  a  large  sip 
of  tea,  which  cleared  his  voice. 

"My  grandfather  is  not  any  better,"  he  said. 
"  Perhaps  some  one  else  should  have  gone.  I  am  not 
very  good,"  he  explained  to  Karl.  "It  ought  to  be  a 
very  good  person.  He  is  very  sick." 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Karl  mockingly,  with  a 
glance  at  Hedwig,  "they  should  have  sent  this 
'Nikky'  of  yours." 

Annunciata  stirred  restlessly.  She  considered  this 
talk  of  Nikky  in  execrable  taste. 

"He  is  not  particularly  good." 

"Oh,  so  he  is  not  particularly  good?  " 

"Well,  he  thinks  he  is  n't.  He  says  he  does  n't 
find  it  easy  to  love  his  country  more  than  anything 
in  the  world,  for  one  thing.  And  he  smokes  a  great 
many  cigarettes." 

"Another  taste  in  common!"  jeered  Karl,  in  his 
smooth,  carefully  ironic  tones. 


370  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

Annunciata  was  in  the  last  stages  of  irritation. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  sneer  in  Karl's  voice. 
His  smile  was  forced.  She  guessed  that  he  had 
heard  of  Nikky  Larisch  before,  that,  indeed,  he 
knew  probably  more  than  she  did.  Just  what,  she 
wondered,  was  there  to  know?  A  great  deal,  if  one 
could  judge  by  Hedwig's  face. 

"I  hope  you  are  working  hard  at  your  lessons, 
Otto,"  she  said,  in  the  severe  tone  which  Otto  had 
learned  that  most  people  use  when  they  refer  to 
lessons. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  not  doing  very  well,  Tante.  But 
I've  learned  the  'Gettysburg  Address.'  Shall  I  say 
it?" 

"Heavens,  no!"  she  protested.  She  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  what  the  "Gettysburg  Address"  was. 
She  suspected  Mr.  Gladstone. 

The  Countess  had  relapsed  into  silence.  A  little 
back  from  the  family  circle,  she  had  watched  the 
whole  scene  stonily,  and  knowing  Karl  as  only  a 
woman  who  loves  sincerely  and  long  can  know  a 
man,  she  knew  the  inner  workings  of  his  mind.  She 
saw  anger  in  the  very  turn  of  his  head  and  set  of  his 
jaw.  But  she  saw  more,  jealousy,  and  was  herself 
half -mad  with  it. 

She  knew  him  well.  She  had  herself,  for  years, 
held  him  by  holding  herself  dear,  by  the  very  diffi 
culty  of  attaining  her.  And  now  this  indifferent, 
white-faced  girl,  who  might  be  his,  indeed,  for  the 
taking,  but  who  would  offer  or  promise  no  love,  was 


KING  KARL  371 

rousing  him  to  the  instinct  of  possession  by  her  very 
indifference.  He  had  told  her  the  truth,  that  night 
in  the  mountain  inn.  It  was  Hedwig  he  wanted, 
Hedwig  herself,  her  heart,  all  of  her.  And,  if  she 
knew  Karl,  he  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  get 
the  thing  he  wanted. 

She  surveyed  the  group.  How  little  they  knew 
what  was  in  store  for  them!  She,  Olga  Loschek,  by 
the  lifting  of  a  finger,  could  turn  their  smug  superi 
ority  into  tears  and  despair,  could  ruin  them  and 
send  them  flying  for  shelter  to  the  very  ends  of  the 
earth. 

But  when  she  looked  at  the  little  Crown  Prince, 
legs  dangling,  eating  his  thin  bread  and  butter  as 
only  a  hungry  small  boy  can  eat,  she  shivered.  By 
what  means  must  she  do  all  this!  By  what  unspeak 
able  means! 

Karl  saw  the  King  that  evening,  a  short  visit 
marked  by  extreme  formality,  and,  on  the  King's 
part,  by  the  keen  and  frank  scrutiny  of  one  who  is 
near  the  end  and  fears  nothing  but  the  final  moment. 
Karl  found  the  meeting  depressing  and  the  King's 
eyes  disconcerting. 

"It  will  not  be  easy  going  for  Otto,"  said  the 
King,  at  the  end  of  the  short  interview.  "I  should 
like  to  feel  that  his  interests  will  be  looked  after, 
not  only  here,  but  by  you  and  yours.  We  have  a 
certain  element  here  that  is  —  troublesome." 

And  Karl,  with  Hedwig  in  his  mind,  had  promised. 


372  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

"His  interests  shall  be  mine,  sir,"  he  had  said. 

He  had  bent  over  the  bed  then,  and  raised  the  thin 
hand  to  his  lips.  The  interview  was  over.  In  the 
anteroom  the  King's  Master  of  the  Horse,  the 
Chamberlain,  and  a  few  other  gentlemen  stood  wait 
ing,  talking  together  in  low  tones.  But  the  Chan 
cellor,  who  had  gone  in  with  Karl  and  then  retired, 
stood  by  a  window,  with  his  arms  folded  over  his 
chest,  and  waited.  He  put  resolutely  out  of  his 
mind  the  face  of  the  dying  man  on  his  pillows,  and 
thought  only  of  this  thing  which  he  —  Mettlich  - 
had  brought  about.  There  was  no  yielding  in  his 
face  or  in  his  heart,  no  doubt  of  his  course.  He  saw, 
instead  of  the  lovers  loitering  in  the  Place,  a  new 
and  greater  kingdom,  anarchy  held  down  by  an  iron- 
shod  heel,  peace  and  the  fruits  thereof,  until  out  of 
very  prosperity  the  people  grew  fat  and  content. 

He  saw  a  boy  king,  carefully  taught,  growing  into 
his  responsibilities  until,  big  with  the  vision  of  the 
country's  welfare,  he  should  finally  ascend  the 
throne.  He  saw  the  river  filled  with  ships,  carrying 
merchandise  over  the  world  and  returning  with  the 
wealth  of  the  world.  Great  buildings,  too,  lifted  their 
heads  on  his  horizon,  a  dream  city,  with  order  for 
disorder,  and  citizens  instead  of  inhabitants. 

When  at  last  he  stirred  and  sighed,  it  was  because 
his  old  friend,  in  his  bed  in  the  next  room,  would  see 
nothing  of  all  this,  and  that  he  himself  could  not 
hope  for  more  than  the  beginning,  before  his  time 
came  also. 


KING   KARL  373 

The  first  large  dinner  for  months  was  given  that 
night  at  the  Palace,  to  do  King  Karl  all  possible 
honor.  The  gold  service  which  had  been  presented 
to  the  King  by  the  Czar  of  Russia  was  used.  The 
anticipatory  gloom  of  the  Court  was  laid  aside,  and 
jewels  brought  from  vaults  were  worn  for  the  first 
time  in  months.  Uniforms  of  various  sorts,  but  all 
gorgeous,  touched  fine  shoulders,  and  came  away, 
bearing  white,  powdery  traces  of  the  meeting.  The 
greenhouses  at  the  summer  palace  had  been  sacked 
for  flowers  and  plants.  The  corridor  from  the  great 
salon  to  the  dining-hall,  always  a  dreary  passage, 
had  suddenly  become  a  fairy  path  of  early-spring 
bloom.  Even  Annunciata,  hung  now  with  ropes  of 
pearls,  her  hair  dressed  high  for  a  tiara  of  diamonds, 
her  cameos  exchanged  for  pearls,  looked  royal. 
Proving  conclusively  that  clutter,  as  to  dress,  is 
entirely  a  matter  of  value. 

Miss  Braithwaite,  who  had  begun  recently  to 
think  a  palace  the  dreariest  place  in  the  world,  and 
the  most  commonplace,  found  the  preparations 
rather  exciting.  Being  British  she  dearly  loved  the 
aristocracy,  and  shrugged  her  shoulders  at  any  fam 
ily  which  took  up  less  than  a  page  in  the  peerage. 
She  resented  deeply  the  intrusion  of  the  commoner 
into  British  politics,  and  considered  Lloyd  George 
an  upstart  and  an  interloper. 

That  evening  she  took  the  Crown  Prince  to  see  the 
preparations  for  the  festivities.  The  flowers  appealed 
to  him,  and  he  asked  for  and  secured  a  rose,  which  he 


374  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

held  carefully.  But  the  magnificence  of  the  table 
only  faintly  impressed  him,  and  when  he  heard  that 
Nikky  would  not  be  present,  he  lost  interest  entirely. 
"Will  they  wheel  my  grandfather  in  in  a  chair?  "  he 
inquired. 

"He  is  too  ill,"  Miss  Braithwaite  said. 

"He'll  be  rather  lonely,  when  they're  all  at  the 
party.  You  don't  suppose  I  could  go  and  sit  with 
him,  do  you?" 

"It  will  be  long  after  your  bedtime." 

Bedtime  being  the  one  rule  which  was  never 
under  any  circumstances  broken,  he  did  not  persist. 
To  have  insisted  might  have  meant  five  off  in  Miss 
Braithwaite's  book,  and  his  record  was  very  good 
that  week.  Together  the  elderly  Englishwoman 
and  the  boy  went  back  to  the  schoolroom. 

The  Countess  Loschek,  who  had  dressed  with  a 
heavy  heart,  was  easily  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
women  that  night.  Her  color  was  high  with  excite 
ment  and  anger,  her  eyes  flashed,  her  splendid  shoul 
ders  gleamed  over  the  blue  and  orchid  shades  of  her 
gown.  A  little  court  paid  tribute  to  her  beauty,  and 
bowed  the  deeper  and  flattered  the  more  as  she 
openly  scorned  and  flouted  them.  She  caught  once 
a  flicker  of  admiration  in  Karl's  face,  and  although 
her  head  went  high,  her  heart  beat  stormily  under 
it. 

Hedwig  was  like  a  flower  that  required  the  sun. 
Only  her  sun  was  happiness.  She  was  in  soft  white 
chiffons,  her  hair  and  frock  alike  girlish  and  unpre- 


KING    KARL  375 

tentious.     Her  mother,  coming  into  her  dressing- 
room,  had  eyed  her  with  disfavor. 

"You  look  like  a  school-girl,"  she  said,  and  had 
sent  for  rouge,  and  with  her  own  royal  hands  applied 
it.  Hedwig  stood  silent,  and  allowed  her  to  have  her 
way  without  protest.  Had  submitted,  too,  to  a 
diamond  pin  in  her  hair,  and  a  string  of  her  mother's 
pearls. 

"There,"  said  Annunciata,  standing  off  and  sur 
veying  her,  "you  look  less  like  a  baby." 

She  did,  indeed!  It  took  Hedwig  quite  five  min 
utes  to  wash  the  rouge  off  her  face,  and  there  was, 
one  might  as  well  confess,  a  moment  when  a  part  of 
the  crown  jewels  of  the  kingdom  lay  in  a  corner  of 
the  room,  whence  a  trembling  maid  salvaged  them, 
and  examined  them  for  damage. 

The  Princess  Hedwig  appeared  that  evening  with 
out  rouge,  and  was  the  only  woman  in  the  room  thus 
unadorned.  Also  she  wore  her  coming-out  string 
of  modest  pearls  and  a  slightly  defiant,  somewhat 
frightened,  expression. 

The  dinner  was  endless,  which  was  necessary, 
since  nothing  was  to  follow  but  conversation.  There 
could,  under  the  circumstances,  be  no  dancing.  And 
the  talk  at  the  table,  through  course  after  course, 
was  somewhat  hectic,  even  under  the  constraining 
presence  of  King  Karl.  There  were  two  reasons  for 
this:  Karl's  presence  and  his  purpose  —  as  yet  un 
announced,  but  surmised,  and  even  known  —  and 
the  situation  in  the  city. 


376  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

That  was  bad.  The  papers  had  been  ordered  to 
make  no  mention  of  the  occurrence  of  the  afternoon, 
but  it  was  well  known.  There  were  many  at  the 
table  who  felt  the  whole  attempt  foolhardy,  the 
setting  of  a  match  to  inflammable  material.  There 
were  others  who  resented  Karl's  presence  in  Livonia, 
and  all  that  it  implied.  And  perhaps  there  were,  too, 
among  the  guests,  one  or  more  who  had  but  recently 
sat  in  less  august  and  more  awful  company. 

Beneath  all  the  brilliance  and  chatter,  the  sparkle 
and  gayety,  there  was,  then,  uneasiness,  wretched 
ness,  and  even  treachery.  And  outside  the  Palace, 
held  back  by  the  guards,  there  still  stood  a  part  of 
the  sullen  crowd  which  had  watched  the  arrival  of 
the  carriages  and  automobiles,  had  craned  forward 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  uniform  or  brilliantly  shrouded 
figure  entering  the  Palace,  and  muttered  as  it  looked. 

Dinner  was  over  at  last.  The  party  moved  back 
to  the  salon,  a  vast  and  empty  place,  hung  with  tap 
estries  and  gayly  lighted.  Here  the  semblance  of 
gayety  persisted,  and  Karl,  affability  itself,  spoke  a 
few  words  to  each  of  the  guests.  Then  it  was  over. 
The  guests  left,  the  members  of  the  Council,  each 
with  a  wife  on  his  arm,  frowsy,  overdressed  women 
most  of  them.  The  Council  was  chosen  for  ability 
and  not  for  birth.  At  last  only  the  suite  remained, 
and  constraint  vanished. 

The  family  withdrew  shortly  after'to  a  small  salon 
off  the  large  one.  And  there,  at  last,  Karl  cornered 
Hedwig  and  demanded  speech. 


KING   KARL  377 

"Where? "she  asked, glancing  around  the  crowded 
room. 

"I  shall  have  to  leave  that  to  you,"  he  said. 
"Unless  —  there  is  a  balcony." 

"But  do  you  think  it  is  necessary?" 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  what  I  have  to  say  does  not  matter." 

"  It  matters  very  much  to  me,"  he  replied  gravely. 

Hedwig  went  first,  slipping  away  quietly  and  un 
noticed.  Karl  asked  the  Archduchess's  permission 
to  follow  her,  and  found  her  waiting  there  alone, 
rather  desperately  calm  now,  and  with  a  tinge  of 
excited  color  in  her  cheeks.  Because  he  cared  a 
great  deal,  and  because,  as  kings  go,  he  was  neither 
hopelessly  bad  nor  hard,  his  first  words  were  kind 
and  genuine,  and  almost  brought  her  to  tears. 

"Poor  little  girl!"  he  said. 

He  had  dropped  the  curtain  behind  him,  and  they 
stood  alone. 

"Don't,"  said  Hedwig;  "I  want  to  be  very  calm, 
and  I  am  sorry  for  myself  already." 

"Then  you  think  it  is  all  very  terrible?" 

She  did  not  reply,  and  he  drew  a  chair  for  her 'to 
the  rail.  When  she  was  seated,  he  took  up  his  posi 
tion  beside  her,  one  arm  against  a  pillar. 

"I  wonder,  Hedwig,"  he  said,  "if  it  is  not  terrible 
because  it  is  new  to  you,  and  because  you  do  not 
know  me  very  well.  Not,"  he  added  hastily,  "that 
I  think  your  knowing  me  well  would  be  an  advan 
tage!  I  am  not  so  idiotic.  But  you  do  not  know  me 


378  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

at  all,  and  for  a  good  many  years  I  must  have  stood 
in  the  light  of  an  enemy.  It  is  not  easy  to  readjust 
such  things  —  witness  the  reception  I  had  to-day!" 

"  I  do  not  think  of  you  in  that  way,  as  —  as  an 
enemy." 

"Then  what  is  it?" 

' '  Why  must  we  talk  about  it  ?  "  Hed wig  demanded , 
looking  up  at  him  suddenly  with  a  flash  of  her  old 
spirit.  "It  will  not  change  anything." 

"Perhaps  not.  Perhaps  —  yes.  You  see,  I  am 
not  quite  satisfied.  I  do  not  want  you,  unless  you  are 
willing.  It  would  be  a  poor  bargain  for  me,  and  not 
quite  fair." 

A  new  turn,  this,  with  a  vengeance!  Hedwig 
stared  up  with  startled  eyes.  It  was  not  enough  to 
be  sacrificed.  And  as  she  realized  all  that  hung  on 
the  situation,  the  very  life  of  the  kingdom,  perhaps 
the  safety  of  her  family,  everything,  she  closed  her 
eyes  for  fear  he  might  see  the  fright  in  them. 

Karl  bent  over  and  took  one  of  her  cold  hands 
between  his  two  warm  ones.  "Little  Hedwig,"  he 
said,  "I  want  you  to  come  willingly  because — -I 
care  a  great  deal.  I  would  like  you  to  care,  too.  Don't 
you  think  you  would,  after  a  time?" 

"After  a  time!"  said  Hedwig  drearily.  "That's 
what  they  all  say.  After  a  time  it  does  n't  matter. 
Marriage  is  always  the  same  —  after  a  time." 

Karl  rather  winced  at  that,  and  released  her  hands, 
but  put  them  down  gently.  "Why  should  marriage 
be  always  the  same,  after  a  time?"  he  inquired. 


KING   KARL  379 

"This  sort  of  marriage,  without  love." 

"It  is  hardly  that,  is  it?   I  love  you." 

"I  wonder  how  much  you  love  me." 

Karl  smiled.  He  was  on  his  own  ground  here. 
The  girlish  question  put  him  at  ease.  "Enough  for 
us  both,  at  first,"  he  said.  "After  that  — " 

"But,"  said  Hedwig  desperately,  "suppose  I 
know  I  shall  never  care  for  you,  the  way  you  will 
want  me  to.  You  talk  of  being  fair.  I  want  to  be  fair 
to  you.  You  have  a  right  -  '  She  checked  herself 
abruptly.  After  all,  he  might  have  a  right  to  know 
about  Nikky  Larisch.  But  there  were  others  who 
had  rights,  too  —  Otto  to  his  throne,  her  mother 
and  Hilda  and  all  the  others,  to  safety,  her  grand 
father  to  die  in  peace,  the  only  gift  she  could  give  him. 

"What  I  think  you  want  to  tell  me,  is  something 
I  already  know,"  Karl  said  gravely.  "Suppose  I  am 
willing  to  take  that  chance?  Suppose  I  am  vain 
enough,  or  fool  enough,  to  think  that  I  can  make  you 
forget  certain  things,  certain  people.  What  then?" 

"I  do  not  forget  easily." 

"But  you  would  try?" 

"I  would  try,"  said  Hedwig,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

Karl  bent  over  and  taking  her  hands,  raised  her  to 
her  feet. 

"Darling,"  he  said,  and  suddenly  drew  her  to 
him.  He  covered  her  with  hot  kisses,  her  neck,  her 
face,  the  soft  angle  below  her  ear.  Then  he  held  her 
away  from  him  triumphantly.  "Now,"  he  said, 
"have  you  forgotten?" 


380  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

But  Hedwig,  scarlet  with  shame,  faced  him  stead 
ily.  "No,"  she  said. 

Later  in  the  evening  the  old  King  received  a  pres 
ent,  a  rather  wilted  rose,  to  which  was  pinned  a  card 
with  "Best  wishes  from  Ferdinand  William  Otto" 
printed  on  it  in  careful  letters. 

It  was  the  only  flower  the  King  had  received  dur 
ing  his  illness. 

When,  that  night,  he  fell  asleep,  it  was  still 
clasped  in  his  old  hand,  and  there  was  a  look  of  grim 
tenderness  on  the  face  on  the  pillow,  turned  toward 
his  dead  son's  picture. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

LET   METTLICH   GUARD   HIS   TREASURE 

TROUBLED  times  now,  with  the  Carnival  only  a  day 
or  two  off,  and  the  shop  windows  gay  with  banners ; 
with  the  press  under  the  house  of  the  concierge  run 
ning  day  and  night,  and  turning  out  vast  quantities 
of  flaming  bulletins  printed  in  red;  with  the  Com 
mittee  of  Ten  in  almost  constant  session,  and  Olga 
Loschek  summoned  before  it,  to  be  told  of  the  pas 
sage,  and  the  thing  she  was  to  do ;  with  the  old  King 
very  close  to  the  open  door,  and  Hedwig  being  fitted 
for  her  bridal  robe  and  for  somber  black  at  one 
fitting. 

Troubled  times,  indeed.  The  city  was  smoulder 
ing,  and  from  some  strange  source  had  come  a  new 
rumor.  Nothing  less  than  that  the  Royalists,  headed 
by  the  Chancellor,  despairing  of  crowning  the  boy 
Prince,  would,  on  the  King's  death,  make  away 
with  him,  thus  putting  Hedwig  on  the  throne  - 
Hedwig,  Queen  of  Karnia  perhaps  already  by  secret 
marriage. 

The  city,  which  adored  the  boy,  was  seething. 
The  rumor  had  originated  with  Olga  Loschek,  who 
had  given  it  to  the  Committee  as  a  useful  weapon. 
Thus. would  she  have  her  revenge  on  those  of  the 
Palace,  and  at  the  same  time  secure  her  own  safety. 


382  LONG   LIVE  THE   KING! 

Revenge,  indeed,  for  she  knew  the  way  of  such 
rumors,  how  they  fly  from  house  to  house,  street  to 
street.  How  the  innocent,  proclaiming  their  inno 
cence,  look  even  the  more  guilty. 

When  she  had  placed  the  scheme  before  the  Com 
mittee  of  Ten,  had  seen  the  eagerness  with  which 
they  grasped  it—  "In  this  way,"  she  had  said,  in 
her  scornful,  incisive  tones,  "the  onus  of  the  boy  is 
not  on  you,  but  on  them.  Even  those  who  have  no 
sympathy  with  your  movement  will  burn  at  such  a 
rumor.  The  better  the  citizen,  the  more  a  lover  of 
home  and  order,  the  more  outraged  he  will  be. 
Every  man  in  the  city  with  a  child  of  his  own  will 
rise  against  the  Palace." 

"Madame,"  the  leader  had  said,  "you  should  be 
of  the  Committee." 

But  she  had  ignored  the  speech  contemptuously, 
and  gone  on  to  other  things. 

Now  everything  was  arranged.  Black  Humbert 
had  put  his  niece  to  work  on  a  Carnival  dress  for  a 
small  boy,  and  had  stayed  her  curiosity  by  a  hint 
that  it  was  for  the  American  lad. 

"They  are  comfortable  tenants,"  he  had  said. 
"Not  lavish,  perhaps,  as  rich  Americans  should  be, 
but  orderly,  and  pleasant.  The  boy  has  good  man 
ners.  It  would  be  well  to  please  him." 

So  the  niece,  sewing  in  the  back  room,  watched 
Bobby  in  and  out,  with  pleasant  mysteries  in  her 
eyes,  and  sewing,  sang  the  song  the  cathedral 
chimed :  — 


LET  METTLICH  GUARD  HIS  TREASURE    383 

"  Draw  me  also,  Mary  mild, 
To  adore  Thee  and  thy  Child  ! 

Mary  mild, 
Star  in  desert  drear  and  wild." 

So  she  sang,  and  sewed,  and  measured  Bobby's 
height  as  he  passed  by  the  wainscoting  in  the  pas 
sage,  and  cunningly  cut  a  pattern. 

"So  high,"  she  reflected,  humming,  "is  his  shoul 
der.  And  so,  to  this  panel,  should  go  the  little 
trousers.  '  Star  in  desert  drear  and  wild.1 ' 

Now  and  then,  in  the  evenings,  when  the  Americans 
were  away,  and  Bobby  was  snug  in  bed,  with  Tucker 
on  the  tiny  feather  comfort  at  his  feet,  the  Fraulein 
would  come  downstairs  and  sit  in  Black  Humbert's 
room.  At  such  times  the  niece  would  be  sent  on  an 
errand,  and  the  two  would  talk.  The  niece,  who, 
although  she  had  no  lover,  was  on  the  lookout  for 
love,  suspected  a  romance  of  the  middle-aged,  and 
smiled  in  the  half-darkness  of  the  street:  smiled 
with  a  touch  of  malice,  as  one  who  has  pierced  the 
armor  of  the  fortress,  and  knows  its  weakness. 

But  it  was  not  of  love  that  Humbert  and  the 
Fraulein  talked. 

Herman  Spier  was  busy  in  those  days  and  making 
plans.  Thus,  day  by  day,  he  dined  in  the  restaurant 
where  the  little  Marie,  now  weary  of  her  husband, 
sat  in  idle  intervals  behind  the  cashier's  desk,  and 
watched  the  grass  in  the  Place  emerge  from  its  win 
ter  hiding-place.  When  she  turned  her  eyes  to  the 
room,  frequently  she  encountered  those  of  Herman 


384  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Spier,  pale  yet  burning,  fixed  on  her.  And  at  last, 
one  day  when  her  husband  lay  lame  with  sciatica, 
she  left  the  desk  and  paused  by  Herman's  table. 

"You  come  frequently  now,"  she  observed.  "  It  is 
that  you  like  us  here,  or  that  you  have  risen  in  the 
shop?" 

"I  have  left  the  shop,"  said  Herman,  staring  at 
her.  Flesh,  in  a  moderate  amount,  suited  her  well. 
He  liked  plump  women.  They  were,  if  you  please, 
an  armful.  "And  I  come  to  see  you." 

"Left  the  shop!"  Marie  exclaimed.  "And  Peter 
Niburg  —  he  has  left  also?  I  never  see  him." 

"No,"  said  Herman  non-committally. 

"He  is  ill,  perhaps?" 

"He  is  dead,"  said  Herman,  devouring  her  with 
his  eyes. 

"Dead!"   She  put  a  hand  to  her  plump  side. 

"Aye.  Shot  as  a  spy."  He  took  another  piece  of 
the  excellent  pigeon  pie.  Marie,  meantime,  lost  all 
her  looks,  grew  pasty  white. 

"Of  the  —  the  Terrorists?"  she  demanded,  in  a 
whisper. 

"Terrorists!  No.  Of  Karnia.  He  was  no  patriot." 

So  the  little  Marie  went  back  to  her  desk,  and  to 
her  staring  out  over  the  Place  in  intervals  of  busi 
ness.  And  what  she  thought  of  no  one  can  know. 
But  that  night,  and  thereafter,  she  was  very  tender 
to  her  spouse,  and  put  cloths  soaked  in  hot  turpen 
tine  water  on  his  aching  thigh. 

On  the  surface  things  went  on  as  usual  at  the  Pal- 


LET  METTLICH  GUARD  HIS  TREASURE    385 

ace.  Karl's  visit  had  been  but  for  a  day  or  two.  He 
had  met  the  Council  in  session,  and  had  had,  be 
cause  of  their  growing  alarm,  rather  his  own  way 
with  them. 

But  although  he  had  pointed  to  the  King's  condi 
tion  and  theirs  —  as  an  argument  for  immediate 
marriage  —  he  failed.  The  thing  would  be  done, 
but  properly  and  in  good  time.  They  had  a  signed 
agreement  to  fall  back  upon,  and  were  in  no  hurry 
to  pay  his  price.  Karl  left  them  in  a  bad  temper, 
well  concealed,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  being  hissed 
through  the  streets. 

But  he  comforted  himself  with  the  thought  of 
Hedwig.  He  had  taken  her  in  his  arms  before  he  left, 
and  she  had  made  no  resistance.  She  had  even,  in 
view  of  all  that  was  at  stake,  made  a  desperate  effort 
to  return  his  kiss,  and  found  herself  trembling  after 
ward. 

In  two  weeks  he  was  to  return  to  her,  and  he 
whispered  that  to  her. 

On  the  day  after  the  dinner-party  Otto  went  to  a 
hospital  with  Miss  Braithwaite.  It  was  the  custom 
of  the  Palace  to  send  the  flowers  from  its  spectacular 
functions  to  the  hospitals,  and  the  Crown  Prince 
delighted  in  these  errands. 

So  they  went,  escorted  by  the  functionaries  of  the 
hospital,  past  the  military  wards,  where  soldiers  in 
shabby  uniforms  sat  on  benches  in  the  spring  sun 
shine,  to  the  general  wards  beyond.  The  Crown 
Prince  was  almost  hidden  behind  the  armful  he 


386  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

carried.  Miss  Braithwaite  had  all  she  could  hold. 
A  convalescent  patient,  in  slippers  many  sizes  too 
large  for  him,  wheeled  the  remainder  in  a  barrow, 
and  almost  upset  the  barrow  in  his  excitement. 

Through  long  corridors  into  wards  fresh-scrubbed 
against  his  arrival,  with  white  counterpanes  exactly 
square,  and  patients  forbidden  to  move  and  disturb 
the  geometrical  exactness  of  the  beds,  went  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto.  At  each  bed  he  stopped, 
selected  a  flower,  and  held  it  out.  Some  there  were 
who  reached  out,  and  took  it  with  a  smile.  Others 
lay  still,  and  saw  neither  boy  nor  blossom. 

"They  sleep,  Highness,"  the  nurse  would  say. 

"But  their  eyes  are  open." 

"They  are  very  weary,  and  resting." 

In  such  cases  he  placed  the  flower  on  the  pillow, 
and  went  on. 

One  such,  however,  lying  with  vacant  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ceiling,  turned  and  glanced  at  the  boy,  and 
into  his  empty  gaze  crept  a  faint  intelligence.  It  was 
not  much.  He  seemed  to  question  with  his  eyes. 
That  was  all.  As  the  little  procession  moved  on, 
however,  he  raised  himself  on  his  elbow. 

"  Lie  down ! "  said  the  man  in  the  next  bed  sharply. 

"Who  was  that?" 

The  ward,  which  might  have  been  interested,  was 
busy  keeping  its  covers  straight  and  in  following 
the  progress  of  the  party.  For  the  man  had  not 
spoken  before. 

"The  Crown  Prince." 


LET  METTLICH  GUARD  HIS  TREASURE  387 

The  sick  man  lay  back  and  closed  his  eyes.  Soon 
he  slept.  His  comrade  in  the  next  bed  beckoned  to  a 
Sister. 

"He  has  spoken,"  he  said.  "Either  he  recovers, 
or  —  he  dies." 

But  again  Haeckel  did  not  die.  He  lived  to  do  his 
part  in  the  coming  crisis,  to  prove  that  even  the 
great  hands  of  Black  Humbert  on  his  throat  were 
not  so  strong  as  his  own  young  spirit;  lived,  indeed, 
to  confront  the  Terrorist  as  one  risen  from  the  dead. 
But  that  day  he  lay  and  slept,  by  curious  irony  the 
flower  from  Karl's  banquet  in  a  cup  of  water  beside 
him. 

On  the  day  before  the  Carnival,  Hedwig  had  a 
visitor,  none  other  than  the  Countess  Loschek.  Hed 
wig,  all  her  color  gone  now,  her  high  spirit  crushed, 
her  heart  torn  into  fragments  and  neatly  distributed 
between  Nikky,  who  had  most  of  it,  the  Crown 
Prince,  and  the  old  King.  Hedwig,  having  given  her 
permission  to  come,  greeted  her  politely  but  without 
enthusiasm. 

"Highness!"  said  the  Countess,  surveying  her. 
And  then,  "You  poor  child!"  using  Karl's  words, 
but  without  the  same  inflection,  using,  indeed,  the 
words  a  good  many  were  using  to  Hedwig  in  those 
days. 

"I  am  very  tired,"  Hedwig  explained.  "All  this 
fitting,  and  —  everything." 

"I  know,  perhaps  better  than  you  think,  High 
ness."  Also  something  like  Karl's  words.  Hedwig 


388  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

reflected  with  bitterness  that  everybody  knew,  but 
nobody  helped  her.  And,  as  if  in  answer  to  the 
thought,  Olga  Loschek  came  out  plainly. 

"Highness,"  she  said,  "may  I  speak  to  you 
frankly?" 

"Please  do,"  Hedwig  replied.  "Everybody  does, 
anyhow.  Especially  when  it  is  something  disagree 
able." 

Olga  Loschek  watched  her  warily.  She  knew  the 
family  as  only  the  outsider  could  know  it;  knew 
that  Hedwig,  who  would  have  disclaimed  the  fact, 
was  like  her  mother  in  some  things,  notably  in  a  dis 
position  to  be  mild  until  a  certain  moment,  submis 
sive,  even  acquiescent,  and  then  suddenly  to  become, 
as  it  were,  a  royalty  and  grow  cold,  haughty.  But  if 
Hedwig  was  driven  in  those  days,  so  was  the  Coun 
tess,  desperate  and  driven  to  desperate  methods. 

"I  am  presuming,  Highness,  on  your  mother's 
kindness  to  me,  and  your  own,  to  speak  frankly." 

"Well,  go  on,"  said  Hedwig  resignedly.  But  the 
next  words  brought  her  up  in  her  chair. 

"Are  you  going  to  allow  your  life  to  be  ruined?" 
was  what  the  Countess  said. 

Careful!  Hedwig  had  thrown  up  her  head  and 
looked  at  her  with  hostile  eyes.  But  the  next  mo 
ment  she  had  forgotten  she  was  a  princess,  and  the 
granddaughter  to  the  King,  and  remembered  only 
that  she  was  a  woman,  and  terror-stricken.  She 
flung  out  her  arms,  and  then  buried  her  face  in 
them. 


LET  METTLICH   GUARD   HIS  TREASURE    389 

"How  can  I  help  it?"  she  said. 

"How  can  you  do  it?"  Olga  Loschek  countered. 
"After  all,  it  is  you  who  must  do  this  thing.  No  one 
else.  It  is  you  they  are  offering  on  the  altar  of  their 
ambition." 

"Ambition?" 

"Ambition.  What  else  is  it?  Surely  you  do  not 
believe  these  tales  they  tell  —  old  wives'  tales  of  plot 
and  counterplot!" 

"But  the  Chancellor  — " 

"Certainly  the  Chancellor!"  mocked  Olga  Lo 
schek.  "Highness,  for  years  he  has  had  a  dream.  A 
great  dream.  It  is  not  for  you  and  me  to  say  it  is  not 
noble.  But,  to  fulfill  his  dream  to  bring  prosperity 
and  greatness  to  the  country,  and  naturally,  to  him 
who  plans  it,  there  is  a  price  to  pay.  He  would  have 
you  pay  it." 

Hedwig  raised  her  face  and  searched  the  other 
woman's  eyes. 

"That  is  all,  then?"  she  said.  "All  this  other,  this 
fright,  this  talk  of  treason  and  danger,  that  is  not 
true?" 

"Not  so  true  as  he  would  have  you  believe,"  re 
plied  Olga  Loschek  steadily.  "There  are  malcon 
tents  everywhere,  in  every  land.  A  few  madmen 
who  dream  dreams,  like  Mettlich  himself,  only  not 
the  same  dream.  It  is  all  ambition,  one  dream  or 
another." 

"  But  my  grandfather  - 

"An  old  man,  in  the  hands  of  his  Ministers!" 


390  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Hedwig  rose  and  paced  the  floor,  her  fingers  twist 
ing  nervously.  "But  it  is  too  late,"  she  cried  at  last. 
"Everything  is  arranged.  I  cannot  refuse  now. 
They  would  —  I  don't  know  what  they  would  do 
to  me!" 

' '  Do !  To  the  granddaughter  of  the  King.  What 
can  they  do?" 

That  aspect  of  things,  to  do  her  credit,  had  never 
occurred  to  Hedwig.  She  had  seen  herself,  hopeless 
and  alone,  surrounded  by  the  powerful,  herself 
friendless.  But,  if  there  was  no  danger  to  save  her 
family  from?  If  her  very  birth,  which  had  counted 
so  far  for  so  little,  would  bring  her  immunity  and 
even  safety? 

She  paused  in  front  of  the  Countess.  "What  can 
I  do?"  she  asked  pitifully. 

"That  I  dare  not  presume  to  say.  I  came  because 
I  felt  —  I  can  only  say  what,  in  your  place,  I  should 
do." 

"  I  am  afraid.  You  would  not  be  afraid."  Hedwig 
shivered.  "What  would  you  do?" 

"If  I  knew,  Highness,  that  some  one,  for  whom  I 
cared,  himself  cared  deeply  enough  to  make  any 
sacrifice,  I  should  demand  happiness.  I  rather  think 
I  should  lose  the  world,  and  gain  something  like 
happiness." 

"Demand!"  Hedwig  said  hopelessly.  "Yes,  you 
would  demand  it.  I  cannot  demand  things.  I  am 
always  too  frightened." 

The  Countess  rose.    "I  am  afraid  I  have  done  an 


LET  METTLICH  GUARD  HIS  TREASURE    391 

unwise  thing,"  she  said.   "If  your  mother  knew  — 
She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  have  only  been  kind.  I  have  so  few  who 
really  care." 

The  Countess  curtsied,  and  made  for  the  door. 
"I  must  go,"  she  said,  "before  I  go  further,  High 
ness.  My  apology  is  that  I  saw  you  unhappy,  and 
that  I  resented  it,  because  — " 

"Yes?" 

"Because  I  considered  it  unnecessary." 

She  was  a  very  wise  woman.  She  left  then,  and  let 
the  next  step  come  from  Hedwig.  It  followed,  as  a 
matter  of  record,  within  the  hour,  at  least  four  hours 
sooner  than  she  had  anticipated.  She  was  in  her 
boudoir,  not  reading,  not  even  thinking,  but  sitting 
staring  ahead,  as  Minna  had  seen  her  do  repeatedly 
in  the  past  weeks.  She  dared  not  think,  for  that 
matter. 

Although  she  was  still  in  waiting,  the  Archduchess 
was  making  few  demands  on  her.  A  very  fever  of 
preparation  was  on  Annunciata.  She  spent  hours 
over  laces  and  lingerie,  was  having  jewels  reset  for 
Hedwig,  after  ornate  designs  of  her  own  contribu 
tion,  was  the  center  of  a  cyclone  of  boxes,  tissue- 
paper,  material,  furs,  and  fashion  books,  while 
maids  scurried  about  and  dealers  and  dressmakers 
awaited  her  pleasure.  She  was,  perhaps,  happier 
than  she  had  been  for  years,  visited  her  father,  ab 
sently  and  with  pins  stuck  in  her  bosom,  and  looked 
dowdier  and  busier  than  the  lowliest  of  the  seam- 


392  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

stresses  who,  by  her  thrifty  order,  were  making  count 
less  undergarments  in  a  room  on  an  upper  floor. 

Hedwig's  notification  that  she  would  visit  her, 
therefore,  found  the  Countess  at  leisure  and  alone. 
She  followed  the  announcement  almost  immedi 
ately,  and  if  she  had  shown  cowardice  before,  she 
showed  none  now.  She  disregarded  the  chair  Olga 
Loschek  offered,  and  came  to  the  point  with  a 
directness  that  was  like  the  King's. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  said  simply,  "to  find  out  what 
to  do." 

The  Countess  was  as  direct. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  what  to  do,  Highness.  I  can 
only  tell  you  what  I  would  do." 

"Very  well."  Hedwig  showed  a  touch  of  impa 
tience.  This  was  quibbling,  and  it  annoyed  her. 

"I  should  go  away,  now,  with  the  person  I  cared 
about." 

"Where  would  you  go?" 

"The  world  is  wide,  Highness." 

"Not  wide  enough  to  hide  in,  I  am  afraid." 

"For  myself,"  said  the  Countess,  "the  problem 
would  not  be  difficult.  I  should  go  to  my  place  in  the 
mountains.  An  old  priest,  who  knows  me  well, 
would  perform  the  marriage.  After  that  they  might 
find  me  if  they  liked.  It  would  be  too  late." 

Emergency  had  given  Hedwig  insight.  She  saw 
that  the  woman  before  her,  voicing  dangerous  doc 
trine,  would  protect  herself  by  letting  the  initiative 
come  from  her. 


LET  METTLICH   GUARD  HIS  TREASURE    393 

"This  priest  —  he  might  be  difficult." 

"  Not  to  a  young  couple,  come  to  him,  perhaps,  in 
peasant  costume.  They  are  glad  to  marry,  these 
fathers.  There  is  much  irregularity.  I  fancy,"  she 
added,  still  with  her  carefully  detached  manner, 
"that  a  marriage  could  be  easily  arranged." 

But,  before  long,  she  had  dropped  her  pretense  of 
aloofness,  and  was  taking  the  lead.  Hedwig,  weary 
with  the  struggle,  and  now  trembling  with  nervous 
ness,  put  herself  in  her  hands,  listening  while  she 
planned,  agreed  eagerly  to  everything.  Something 
of  grim  amusement  came  into  Olga  Loschek's  face 
after  a  time.  By  doing  this  thing  she  would  lose 
everything.  It  would  be  impossible  to  conceal  her 
connivance.  No  one,  knowing  Hedwig,  would  for  a 
moment  imagine  the  plan  hers.  Or  Nikky's,  either, 
for  that  matter. 

She,  then,  would  lose  everything,  even  Karl,  who 
was  already  lost  to  her.  But  —  and  her  face  grew 
set  and  her  eyes  hard  —  she  would  let  those  plotters 
in  their  grisly  catacombs  do  their  own  filthy  work. 
Her  hands  would  be  clean  of  that.  Hence  her  amuse 
ment  that  at  this  late  day  she,  Olga  Loschek,  should 
be  saving  her  own  soul. 

So  it  was  arranged,  to  the  last  detail.  For  it  must 
be  done  at  once.  Hedwig,  a  trifle  terrified,  would 
have  postponed  it  a  day  or  so,  but  the  Countess 
was  insistent.  Only  she  knew  how  the  very  hours 
counted,  had  them  numbered,  indeed,  and  watched 
them  flying  by  with  a  sinking  heart. 


394  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

She  made  a  few  plans  herself,  in  those  moments 
when  Hedwig  relapsed  into  rapturous  if  somewhat 
frightened  dreams.  She  had  some  money  and  her 
jewels.  She  would  go  to  England,  and  there  live 
quietly  until  things  settled  down.  Then,  perhaps, 
she  would  go  some  day  to  Karl,  and  with  this  mad 
ness  for  Hedwig  dead,  of  her  marriage,  perhaps — ! 
She  planned  no  further. 

If  she  gave  a  fleeting  thought  to  the  Palace,  to  the 
Crown  Prince  and  his  impending  fate,  she  dismissed 
it  quickly.  She  had  no  affection  for  Annunciata, 
and  as  to  the  boy,  let  them  look  out  for  him.  Let 
Mettlich  guard  his  treasure,  or  lose  it  to  his  peril. 
The  passage  under  the  gate  was  not  of  her  discovery 
or  informing. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

NIKKY   AND  HEDWIG 

NIKKY  had  gone  back  to  his  lodging,  where  his  serv 
ant  was  packing  his  things.  For  Nikky  was  now  of 
His  Majesty's  household,  and  must  exchange  his 
shabby  old  rooms  for  the  cold  magnificence  of  the 
Palace. 

Toto  had  climbed  to  the  chair  beside  him,  and 
was  inspecting  his  pockets,  one  by  one.  Toto  was 
rather  a  problem,  in  the  morning.  But  then  every 
thing  was  a  problem  now.  He  decided  to  leave  the 
dog  with  the  landlady,  and  to  hope  for  a  chance  to 
talk  the  authorities  over.  Nikky  himself  considered 
that  a  small  boy  without  a  dog  was  as  incomplete  as, 
for  instance,  a  buttonhole  without  a  button. 

He  was  very  downhearted.  To  the  Crown  Prince, 
each  day,  he  gave  the  best  that  was  in  him,  played 
and  rode,  invented  delightful  nonsense  to  bring  the 
boy's  quick  laughter,  carried  pocketfuls  of  bones,  to 
the  secret  revolt  of  his  soldierly  soul,  was  boyish 
and  tender,  frivolous  or  thoughtful,  as  the  occasion 
seemed  to  warrant. 

And  always  he  was  watchful,  his  revolver  always 
ready  and  in  touch,  his  eyes  keen,  his  body,  even 
when  it  seemed  most  relaxed,  always  tense  to  spring. 
For  Nikky  knew  the  temper  of  the  people,  knew  it  as 


396  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

did  Mathilde  gossiping  in  the  market,  and  even 
better;  knew  that  a  crisis  was  approaching,  and 
that  on  this  small  boy  in  his  charge  hung  that  crisis. 

The  guard  at  the  Palace  had  been  trebled,  but 
even  in  that  lay  weakness. 

"Too  many  strange  faces,"  the  Chancellor  had 
said  to  him,  shaking  his  head.  "Too  many  servants 
in  livery,  and  flunkies  whom  no  one  knows.  How 
can  we  prevent  men,  in  such  livery,  from  imperson 
ating  our  own  agents?  One,  two,  a  half-dozen,  they 
could  gain  access  to  the  Palace,  could  commit  a 
mischief  under  our  very  eyes." 

So  Nikky  trusted  in  his  own  right  arm  and  in 
nothing  else.  At  night  the  Palace  guard  was  smaller, 
and  could  be  watched.  There  were  no  servants 
about  to  complicate  the  situation.  But  in  the  day 
time,  and  especially  now  with  the  procession  of  mil 
liners  and  dressmakers,  messengers  and  dealers,  it 
was  more  difficult.  Nikky  watched  these  people,  as 
he  happened  on  them,  with  suspicion  and  hatred. 
Hatred  not  only  of  what  they  might  be,  but  hatred 
of  what  they  were,  of  the  thing  they  typified,  Hed- 
wig's  approaching  marriage. 

The  very  size  of  the  Palace,  its  unused  rooms,  its 
long  and  rambling  corridors,  its  rambling  wings  and 
ancient  turrets,  was  against  its  safety. 

Since  the  demonstration  against  Karl,  the  riding- 
school  hour  had  been  given  up.  There  were  no 
drives  in  the  park.  The  illness  of  the  King  furnished 
sufficient  excuse,  but  the  truth  was  that  the  royal 


NIKKY  AND  HEDWIG  397 

family  was  practically  besieged,  by  it  knew  not 
what.  Two  police  agents  had  been  found  dead  the 
morning  after  Karl's  departure,  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  city,  lying  together  in  a  freshly  ploughed  field. 
They  bore  marks  of  struggle,  and  each  had  been 
stabbed  through  the  veins  of  the  neck,  as  though 
they  had  been  first  subdued  and  then  scientifically 
destroyed. 

Nikky,  summoned  to  the  Chancellor's  house  that 
morning,  had  been  told  the  facts,  and  had  stood, 
rather  still  and  tense,  while  Mettlich  recounted  them. 

"Our  very  precautions  are  our  danger,"  said  the 
Chancellor.  "And  the  King  — "  He  stopped  and 
sat,  tapping  his  fingers  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"And  the  King,  sir?" 

"Almost  at  the  end.   A  day  or  two."  . 

On  that  day  came  fresh  news,  alarming1  enough. 
More  copies  of  the  seditious  paper  were  in  circula 
tion  in  the  city  and  the  surrounding  country,  pass 
ing  from  hand  to  hand.  The  town  was  searched  for 
the  press  which  had  printed  them,  but  it  was  not 
located.  Which  was  not  surprising,  since  it  had  been 
lowered  through  a  trap  into  a  sub-cellar  of  the  house 
on  the  Road  of  the  Good  Children,  and  the  trapdoor 
covered  with  rubbish. 

Karl,  with  Hedwig  in  his  thoughts,  had  returned 
to  mobilize  his  army  not  far  from  the  border  for  the 
spring  maneuvers,  and  at  a  meeting  of  the  King's 
Council  the  matter  of  a  mobilization  in  Livonia  was 
seriously  considered. 


398  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Fat  Friese  favored  it,  and  made  an  impassioned 
speech,  with  sweat  thick  on  his  heavy  face. 

"I  am  not  cowardly,"  he  finished.  "I  fear  nothing 
for  myself  or  for  those  belonging  to  me.  But  the 
duty  of  this  Council  is  to  preserve  the  throne  for  the 
Crown  Prince,  at  any  cost.  And,  if  we  cannot  trust 
the  army,  in  what  can  we  trust?" 

"In  God,"  said  the  Chancellor  grimly. 

In  the  end  nothing  was  done.  Mobilization  might 
precipitate  the  crisis,  and  there  was  always  the  fear 
that  the  army,  in  parts,  was  itself  disloyal. 

It  was  Marschall,  always  nervous  and  now  pallid 
with  terror,  who  suggested  abandoning  the  marriage 
between  Hedwig  and  Karl. 

"Until  this  matter  came  up,"  he  said,  avoiding 
Mettlich's  eyes,  "there  was  danger,  but  of  a  small 
party  only,  the  revolutionary  one.  One  which,  by 
increased  effort  on  the  part  of  the  secret  police, 
might  have  been  suppressed.  It  is  this  new  measure 
which  is  fatal.  The  people  detest  it.  They  cannot 
forget,  if  we  can,  the  many  scores  of  hatred  we  still 
owe  to  Karnia.  We  have,  by  our  own  act,  alienated 
the  better  class  of  citizens.  Why  not  abandon  this 
marriage,  which,  gentlemen,  I  believe  will  be  fatal. 
It  has  not  yet  been  announced.  We  may  still  with 
draw  with  honor." 

He  looked  around  the  table  with  anxious,  haunted 
eyes,  opened  wide  so  that  the  pupils  appeared  small 
and  staring  in  their  setting  of  blood-shot  white.  The 
Chancellor  glanced  around,  also. 


NIKKY  AND   HEDWIG  399 

"  It  is  not  always  easy  to  let  the  people  of  a  coun 
try  know  what  is  good  for  them  and  for  it.  To  retreat 
now  is  to  show  our  weakness,  to  make  an  enemy 
again  of  King  Karl,  and  to  gain  us  nothing,  not  even 
safety.  As  well  abdicate,  and  turn  the  country  over 
to  the  Terrorists!  And,  in  this  crisis,  let  me  remind 
you  of  something  you  persistently  forget.  Whatever 
the  views  of  the  solid  citizens  may  be  as  to  this 
marriage,  —  and  once  it  is  effected,  they  will  accept 
it  without  doubt,  —  the  Crown  Prince  is  now  and 
will  remain  the  idol  of  the  country.  It  is  on  his  popu 
larity  we  must  depend.  We  must  capitalize  it.  Mobs 
are  sentimental.  Whatever  the  Terrorists  may  think, 
this  I  know:  that  when  the  bell  announces  His 
Majesty's  death,  when  Ferdinand  William  Otto 
steps  out  on  the  balcony,  a  small  and  lonely  child, 
they  will  rally  to  him.  That  figure,  on  the  balcony, 
will  be  more  potent  than  a  thousand  demagogues, 
haranguing  in  the  public  streets." 

The  Council  broke  up  in  confusion.  Nothing  had 
been  done,  or  would  be  done.  Mettlich  of  the  Iron 
Hand  had  held  them,  would  continue  to  hold  them. 

The  King,  meanwhile,  lay  dying,  Doctor  Weider- 
man  in  constant  attendance,  other  physicians  com 
ing  and  going.  His  apartments  were  silent.  Rugs 
covered  the  corridors,  that  no  footfall  disturb  his 
quiet  hours.  The  nursing  Sisters  attended  him,  one 
by  his  bedside,  one  always  on  her  knees  at  the  prie- 
dieu  in  the  small  room  beyond.  He  wanted  little  - 
now  and  then  a  sip  of  water,  the  cooled  juice  of  fruit. 


400  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

Injections  of  stimulants,  given  by  Doctor  Welder- 
man  himself,  had  scarred  his  old  arms  with  purplish 
marks,  and  were  absorbed  more  and  more  slowly  as 
the  hours  went  on. 

He  rarely  slept,  but  lay  inert  and  not  unhappy. 
Now  and  then  one  of  his  gentlemen,  given  permis 
sion,  tiptoed  into  the  room,  and  stood  looking  down 
at  his  royal  master.  Annunciata  came,  and  was  at 
last  stricken  by  conscience  to  a  prayer  at  his  bed 
side.  On  one  of  her  last  visits  that  was.  She  got  up 
to  find  his  eyes  fixed  on  her. 

"Father,"  she  began. 

He  made  no  motion. 

"Father,  can  you  hear  me?" 

"Yes." 

"I  —  I  have  been  a  bad  daughter  to  you.  I  am 
sorry.  It  is  late  now  to  tell  you,  but  I  am  sorry. 
Can  I  do  anything?" 

"Otto,"  he  said,  with  difficulty. 

"You  want  to  see  him?" 

"No." 

She  knew  what  he  meant  by  that.  He  would  have 
the  boy  remember  him  as  he  had  seen  him  last. 

"You  are  anxious  about  him?" 

"Very  —  anxious." 

"Listen,  father,"  she  said,  stooping  over  him.  "I 
have  been  hard  and  cold.  Perhaps  you  will  grant 
that  I  have  had  two  reasons  for  it.  But  I  am  going 
to  do  better.  I  will  take  care  of  him  and  I  will  do 
all  I  can  to  make  him  happy.  I  promise." 


NIKKY  AND  HEDWIG  401 

Perhaps  it  was  relief.  Perhaps  even  then  the 
thought  of  Annunciata's  tardy  and  certain-to-be 
bungling  efforts  to  make  Ferdinand  William  Otto 
happy  amused  him.  He  smiled  faintly. 

Nikky,  watching  his  rooms  being  dismantled,  res 
cuing  an  old  pipe  now  and  then,  or  a  pair  of  shabby 
but  beloved  boots,  —  Nikky,  whistling  to  keep  up 
his  courage,  received  a  note  from  Hedwig  late  that 
afternoon.  It  was  very  brief:  — 

To-night  at  nine  o'clock  I  shall  go  to  the  roof  beyond 
Hubert's  old  rooms,  for  air. 

HEDWIG. 

Nikky,  who  in  all  his  incurious  young  life  had 
never  thought  of  the  roof  of  the  Palace,  save  as  a 
necessary  shelter  from  the  weather,  a  thing  of  tiles 
and  gutters,  vastly  large,  looked  rather  astounded. 

"The  roof!"  he  said,  surveying  the  note.  And  fell 
to  thinking,  such  a  mixture  of  rapture  and  despair 
as  only  twenty-three,  and  hopeless,  can  know. 

Somehow  or  other  he  got  through  the  intervening 
hours,  and  before  nine  he  was  on  his  way.  He  had 
the  run  of  the  Palace,  of  course.  No  one  noticed 
him  as  he  made  his  way  toward  the  empty  suite 
which  so  recently  had  housed  its  royal  visitor. 
Annunciata's  anxiety  had  kept  the  doors  of  the  suite 
unlocked.  Knowing  nothing,  but  fearing  every 
thing,  she  slept  with  the  key  to  the  turret  door 
under  her  pillow,  and  an  ear  opened  for  untoward 
sounds. 


402  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

In  the  faint  moonlight  poor  Hubert's  rooms,  with 
their  refurbished  furnishings  covered  with  white 
linen,  looked  cold  and  almost  terrifying.  A  long 
window  was  open,  and  the  velvet  curtain  swayed 
as  though  it  shielded  some  dismal  figure.  But,  when 
he  had  crossed  the  room  and  drawn  the  curtain 
aside,  it  was  to  see  a  bit  of  fairyland,  the  roof  moon 
lit  and  transformed  by  growing  things  into  a  garden. 
There  was,  too,  the  fairy. 

Hedwig,  in  a  soft  white  wrap  over  her  dinner 
dress,  was  at  the  balustrade.  The  moon,  which  had 
robbed  the  flowers  of  their  colors  and  made  them 
ghosts  of  blossoms,  had  turned  Hedwig  into  a  pale, 
white  fairy  with  extremely  frightened  eyes.  A  very 
dignified  fairy,  too,  although  her  heart  thumped 
disgracefully.  Having  taken  a  most  brazen  step 
forward,  she  was  now  for  taking  two  panicky  ones 
back. 

Therefore  she  pretended  not  to  hear  Nikky  be 
hind  her,  and  was  completely  engrossed  in  the  city 
lights. 

So  Hedwig  intended  to  be  remote,  and  Nikky 
meant  to  be  firm  and  very,  very  loyal.  Which  shows 
how  young  and  inexperienced  they  were.  Because 
any  one  who  knows  even  the  beginnings  of  love 
knows  that  its  victims  suffer  from  an  atrophy  of  both 
reason  and  conscience,  and  a  hypertrophy  of  the 
heart. 

Whatever  Nikky  had  intended  —  of  obeying  his 
promise  to  the  letter,  of  putting  his  country  before 


NIKKY  AND   HEDWIG  403 

love,  and  love  out  of  his  life  —  failed  him  instantly. 
The  Nikky,  ardent-eyed  and  tender-armed,  who 
crossed  the  roof  and  took  her  almost  fiercely  in  his 
arms,  was  all  lover  —  and  twenty-three. 

' '  Sweetheart ! "  he  said .    ' '  Sweetest  heart ! ' ' 

When,  having  kissed  her,  he  drew  back  a  trifle  for 
the  sheer  joy  of  again  catching  her  to  him,  it  was 
Hedwig  who  held  out  her  arms  to  him. 

"I  couldn't  bear  it,"  she  said  simply.  "I  love 
you.  I  had  to  see  you  again.  Just  once." 

If  he  had  not  entirely  lost  his  head  before,  he  lost 
it  then.  He  stopped  thinking,  was  content  for  a 
time  that  her  arms  were  about  his  neck,  and  his 
arms  about  her,  holding  her  close.  They  were  tense, 
those  arms  of  his,  as  though  he  would  defy  the  world 
to  take  her  away. 

But,  although  he  had  stopped  thinking,  Hedwig 
had  not.  It  is,  at  such  times,  always  the  woman  who 
thinks.  Hedwig,  plotting  against  his  honor  and  for 
his  happiness  and  hers,  was  already,  with  her  head 
on  his  breast,  planning  the  attack.  And,  having 
a  strategic  position,  she  fired  her  first  gun  from 
there. 

"Never  let  me  go,  Nikky,"  she  whispered.  "Hold 
me,  always." 

"Always!"  said  Nikky,  valiantly  and  absurdly. 

"Like  this?" 

"Like  this,"  said  Nikky,  who  was,  like  most  lov 
ers,  not  particularly  original.  He  tightened  his 
strong  arms  about  her. 


404  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"They  are  planning  such  terrible  things."  Shell 
number  two,  and  high  explosive.  "You  won't  let 
them  take  me  from  you,  will  you?" 

"God!"  said  poor  Nikky,  and  kissed  her  hair.  "If 
we  could  only  be  like  this  always !  Your  arms,  Hed- 
wig,  —  your  sweet  arms!"  He  kissed  her  arms. 

Gun  number  three  now:  "Tell  me  how  much  you 
love  me." 

"I  —  there  are  no  words,  darling.  And  I  could  n't 
live  long  enough  to  tell  you,  if  there  were."  Not 
bad  that,  for  inarticulate  Nikky. 

"More  than  anybody  else?" 

He  shook  her  a  trifle,  in  his  arms.  "How  can  you?" 
he  demanded  huskily.  "More  than  anything  in  the 
world.  More  than  life,  or  anything  life  can  bring. 
More,  God  help  me,  than  my  country." 

But  his  own  words  brought  him  up  short.  He 
released  her,  very  gently,  and  drew  back  a  step. 

"You  heard  that?"  he  demanded.  "And  I  mean 
it.  It's  incredible,  Hedwig,  but  it  is  true." 

"I  want  you  to  mean  it,"  Hedwig  replied,  moving 
close  to  him,  so  that  her  soft  draperies  brushed  him; 
the  very  scent  of  the  faint  perfume  she  used  was  in 
the  air  he  breathed.  "I  want  you  to,  because  — 
Nikky,  you  are  going  to  take  me  away,  are  n't  you?  " 

Then,  because  she  dared  not  give  him  time  to 
think,  she  made  her  plea,  —  rapid,  girlish,  rather 
incoherent,  but  understandable  enough.  They  would 
go  away  together  and  be  married.  She  had  it  all 
planned  and  some  of  it  arranged.  And  then  they 


NIKKY  AND  HEDWIG  405 

would  hide  somewhere,  and  —  "And  always  be  to 
gether,"  she  finished,  tremulous  with  anxiety. 

And  Nikky?  His  pulses  still  beating  at  her  near 
ness,  his  eyes  on  her  upturned,  despairing  young 
face,  turned  to  him  for  hope  and  comfort,  what 
could  he  do?  He  took  her  in  his  arms  again  and 
soothed  her,  while  she  cried  her  heart  out  against 
his  tunic.  He  said  he  would  do  anything  to  keep  her 
from  unhappiness,  and  that  he  would  die  before  he 
let  her  go  to  Karl's  arms.  But  if  he  had  stopped 
thinking  before,  he  was  thinking  hard  enough  then. 

"To-night?"  said  Hedwig,  raising  a  tear-stained 
face.  "  It  is  early.  If  we  wait  something  will  happen. 
I  know  it.  They  are  so  powerful,  they  can  do  any 
thing." 

After  all,  Nikky  is  poor  stuff  to  try  to  make  a  hero 
of.  He  was  so  human,  and  so  loving.  And  he  was 
very,  very  young,  which  may  perhaps  be  his  excuse. 
As  well  confess  his  weakness  and  his  temptation. 
He  was  tempted.  Almost  he  felt  he  could  not  let  her 
go,  could  not  loosen  his  hold  of  her.  Almost  —  not 
quite. 

He  put  her  away  from  him  at  last,  after  he  had 
kissed  her  eyelids  and  her  forehead,  which  was  by 
way  of  renunciation.  And  then  he  folded  his  arms, 
which  were  treacherous  and  might  betray  him. 
After  that,  not  daring  to  look  at  her,  but  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  irregular  sky-line  of  the  city  roofs, 
he  told  her  many  things,  of  his  promise  to  the  King, 
of  the  danger,  imminent  now  and  very  real,  of  his 


406  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

word  of  honor  not  to  make  love  to  her,  which  he  had 
broken. 

Hedwig  listened,  growing  cold  and  still,  and  draw 
ing  away  a  little.  She  was  suffering  too  much  to  be 
just.  All  she  could  see  was  that,  for  a  matter  of 
honor,  and  that  debatable,  she  was  to  be  sacrificed. 
This  danger  that  all  talked  of  —  she  had  heard  that 
for  a  dozen  years,  and  nothing  had  come  of  it. 
Nothing,  that  is,  but  her  own  sacrifice. 

She  listened,  even  assented,  as  he  pleaded  against 
his  own  heart,  treacherous  arms  still  folded.  And  if 
she  saw  his  arms  and  not  his  eyes,  it  was  because 
she  did  not  look  up. 

Halfway  through  his  eager  speech,  however,  she 
drew  her  light  wrap  about  her  and  turned  away. 
Nikky  could  not  believe  that  she  was  going  like 
that,  without  a  word.  But  when  she  had  disappeared 
through  the  window,  he  knew,  and  followed  her. 
He  caught  her  in  Hubert's  room,  and  drew  her  sav 
agely  into  his  arms. 

But  it  was  a  passive,  quiescent,  and  trembling 
Hedwig  who  submitted,  and  then,  freeing  herself, 
went  out  through  the  door  into  the  lights  of  the  cor 
ridor.  Nikky  flung  himself,  face  down,  on  a  shrouded 
couch  and  lay  there,  his  face  buried  in  his  arms. 

Olga  Loschek's  last  hope  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   DAY   OF   THE   CARNIVAL 

ON  the  day  of  the  Carnival,  which  was  the  last  day 
before  the  beginning  of  Lent,  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  wakened  early.  The  Palace  still  slept, 
and  only  the  street-sweepers  were  about  the  streets. 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  sat  up  in  bed  and 
yawned.  This  was  a  special  day,  he  knew,  but  at 
first  he  was  too  drowsy  to  remember. 

Then  he  knew  —  the  Carnival !  A  delightful  day, 
with  the  Place  full  of  people  in  strange  costumes 
—  peasants,  imps,  jesters,  who  cut  capers  on  the 
grass  in  the  Park,  little  girls  in  procession,  wearing 
costumes  of  fairies  with  gauze  wings,  students  who 
paraded  and  blew  noisy  horns,  even  horses  deco 
rated,  and  now  and  then  a  dog  dressed  as  a  dancer 
or  a  soldier. 

He  would  have  enjoyed  dressing  Toto  in  some 
thing  or  other.  He  decided  to  mention  it  to  Nikky, 
and  with  a  child's  faith  he  felt  that  Nikky  would,  so 
to  speak,  come  up  to  the  scratch. 

He  yawned  again,  and  began  to  feel  hungry.  He 
decided  to  get  up  and  take  his  own  bath.  There  was 
nothing  like  getting  a  good  start  for  a  gala  day.  And, 
since  with  the  Crown  Prince  to  decide  was  to  do, 
which  is  not  always  a  royal  trait,  he  took  his  own 


4o8  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

bath,  being  very  particular  about  his  ears,  and  not 
at  all  particular  about  the  rest  of  him.  Then,  no 
Oskar  having  yet  appeared  with  fresh  garments  he 
ducked  back  into  bed  again,  quite  bare  as  to  his 
small  body,  and  snuggled  down  in  the  sheets. 

Lying  there,  he  planned  the  day.  There  were  to 
be  no  lessons  except  fencing,  which  could  hardly  be 
called  a  lesson  at  all,  and  as  he  now  knew  the 
"Gettysburg  Address,"  he  meant  to  ask  permission 
to  recite  it  to  his  grandfather.  To  be  quite  sure  of  it, 
he  repeated  it  to  himself  as  he  lay  there :  — 

' '  Fourscore  and  seven  years  ago  our  fathers  brought 
forth  on  this  continent  a  new  nation,  conceived  in  lib 
erty,  and  dedicated  to  the  proposition  that  all  men  are 
created  equal.' 

"Free  and  equal,"  he  said  to  himself.  That  rather 
puzzled  him.  Of  course  people  were  free,  but  they 
did  not  seem  to  be  equal.  In  the  summer,  at  the 
summer  palace,  he  was  only  allowed  to  see  a  few 
children,  because  the  others  were  what  his  Aunt 
Annunciata  called  "bourgeois."  And  there  was  in 
his  mind  also  something  Miss  Braithwaite  had  said, 
after  his  escapade  with  the  American  boy. 

"If  you  must  have  some  child  to  play  with,"  she 
had  said  severely,  "you  could  at  least  choose  some 
one  approximately  your  equal." 

"But  he  is  my  equal,"  he  had  protested  from  the 
outraged  depths  of  his  small  democratic  heart. 

"In  birth,"  explained  Miss  Braithwaite. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  CARNIVAL          409 

"His  father  has  a  fine  business,"  he  had  said,  still 
rather  indignant.  "  It  makes  a  great  deal  of  money. 
Not  everybody  can  build  a  scenic  railway  and  get  it 
going  right.  Bobby  said  so." 

Miss  Braithwaite  had  been  silent  and  obviously 
unconvinced.  Yet  this  Mr.  Lincoln,  the  American, 
had  certainly  said  that  all  men  were  free  and  equal. 
It  was  very  puzzling. 

But,  as  the  morning  advanced,  as,  clothed  and  fed, 
the  Crown  Prince  faced  the  new  day,  he  began  to 
feel  a  restraint  in  the  air.  People  came  and  went,  his 
grandfather's  Equerry,  the  Chancellor,  the  Lord 
Chamberlain,  other  gentlemen,  connected  with  the 
vast  and  intricate  machinery  of  the  Court,  and  even 
Hedwig,  in  a  black  frock,  all  these  people  came,  and 
talked  together,  and  eyed  him  when  he  was  not 
looking.  When  they  left  they  all  bowed  rather  more 
than  usual,  except  Hedwig,  who  kissed  him,  much 
to  his  secret  annoyance. 

Every  one  looked  grave,  and  spoke  in  a  low  tone. 
Also  there  was  something  wrong  with  Nikky,  who 
appeared  not  only  grave,  but  rather  stern  and  white. 
Considering  that  it  was  the  last  day  before  Lent,  and 
Carnival  time,  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  felt 
vaguely  defrauded,  rather  like  the  time  he  had  seen 
"The  Flying  Dutchman,"  which  had  turned  out  to 
be  only  a  make-believe  ship  and  did  not  fly  at  all. 
To  add  to  the  complications,  Miss  Braithwaite  had 
a  headache. 

Nikky  Larisch  had  arrived  just  as  Hedwig  de- 


4io  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

parted,  and  even  the  Crown  Prince  had  recognized 
something  wrong.  Nikky  had  stopped  just  inside 
the  doorway,  with  his  eyes  rather  desperately  and 
hungrily  on  Hedwig,  and  Hedwig,  who  should  have 
been  scolded,  according  to  Prince  Otto,  had  passed 
him  with  the  haughtiest  sort  of  nod. 

The  Crown  Prince  witnessed  the  nod  with  wonder 
and  alarm. 

"We  are  all  rather  worried,"  he  explained  after 
ward  to  Nikky,  to  soothe  his  wounded  pride.  "My 
grandfather  is  not  so  well  to-day.  Hedwig  is  very 
unhappy." 

"Yes,"  said  Nikky  miserably,  "she  does  look  un 
happy." 

"Now,  when  are  we  going  out? "  briskly  demanded 
Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto.  "  I  can  hardly  wrait. 
I  've  seen  the  funniest  people  already  —  and  dogs. 
Nikky,  I  wonder  if  you  could  dress  Toto,  and  let  me 
see  him  somewhere." 

"Out!  You  do  not  want  to  go  out  in  that  crowd, 
do  you?" 

"Why  — am  I  not  to  go?" 

His  voice  was  suddenly  quite  shaky.  He  was,  in  a 
way,  so  inured  to  disappointments  that  he  recog 
nized  the  very  tones  in  which  they  were  usually 
announced.  So  he  eyed  Nikky  with  a  searching 
glance,  and  saw  there  the  thing  he  feared. 

"Well,"  he  said  resignedly,  "I  suppose  I  can  see 
something  from  the  windows.  Only  —  I  should  like 
to  have  a  really  good  time  occasionally."  He  was 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  CARNIVAL          411 

determined  not  to  cry.  "But  there  are  usually  a 
lot  of  people  in  the  Place." 

Then,  remembering  that  his  grandfather  was  very 
ill,  he  tried  to  forget  his  disappointment  in  a  gift  for 
him.  Not  burnt  wood  this  time,  but  the  drawing  of 
a  gun,  which  he  explained  as  he  worked,  that  he  had 
invented.  He  drew  behind  the  gun  a  sort  of  trestle, 
with  little  cars,  not  unlike  the  Scenic  Railway,  on 
which  ammunition  was  delivered  into  the  breech  by 
something  strongly  resembling  a  coal-chute. 

There  was,  after  all,  little  to  see  from  the  windows. 
That  part  of  the  Place  near  the  Palace  remained 
empty  and  quiet,  by  order  of  the  King's  physicians. 
And  although  it  was  Carnival,  and  the  streets  were 
thronged  with  people,  there  was  little  of  Carnival  in 
the  air.  The  city  waited. 

Some  loyal  subjects  waited  and  grieved  that  the 
King  lay  dying.  For,  although  the  Palace  had  care 
fully  repressed  his  condition,  such  things  leak  out, 
and  there  was  the  empty  and  silent  Place  to  bear 
witness. 

Others  waited,  too,  but  not  in  sorrow.  And  a 
certain  percentage,  the  young  and  light-hearted, 
strutted  the  streets  in  fantastic  costume,  blew  horns 
and  threw  confetti  and  fresh  flowers,  still  dewy 
from  the  mountain  slopes.  The  Scenic  Railway  was 
crowded  with  merry-makers,  and  long  lines  of  people 
stood  waiting  their  turn  at  the  ticket-booth,  where  a 
surly  old  veteran,  pinched  with  sleepless  nights,  sold 
them  tickets  and  ignored  their  badinage.  Family 


4i2  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

parties,  carrying  baskets  and  wheeling  babies  in 
perambulators,  took  possession  of  the  Park  and  lit 
tered  it  with  paper  bags.  And  among  them,  com 
mitting  horrible  crimes,  dispatching  whole  families 
with  a  wooden  gun  from  behind  near-by  trees  and 
taking  innumerable  prisoners,  went  a  small  pirate 
in  a  black  mask  and  a  sash  of  scarlet  ribbon,  from 
which  hung  various  deadly  weapons,  including  a 
bread-knife,  a  meat-cleaver,  and  a  hatchet. 

Attempts  to  make  Tucker  wear  a  mask  having 
proved  abortive,  he  was  attired  in  a  pirate  flag  of 
black,  worn  as  a  blanket,  and  having  on  it,  in  white 
muslin,  what  purported  to  be  a  skull  and  cross-bones 
but  which  looked  like  the  word  "ox"  with  the  "O" 
superimposed  over  the  "X." 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  stood  at  his 
window  and  looked  out.  Something  of  resentment 
showed  itself  in  the  lines  of  his  figure.  There  was, 
indeed,  rebellion  in  his  heart.  This  was  a  real  day, 
a  day  of  days,  and  no  one  seemed  to  care  that  he  was 
missing  it.  Miss  Braithwaite  looked  drawn  about 
the  eyes,  and  considered  carnivals  rather  common, 
and  certainly  silly.  And  Nikky  looked  drawn  about 
the  mouth,  and  did  not  care  to  play. 

Rebellion  was  dawning  in  the  soul  of  the  Crown 
Prince,  not  the  impassive  revolt  of  the  "Flying 
Dutchman"  and  things  which  only  pretended  to  be, 
like  the  imitation  ship  and  the  women  who  were  not 
really  spinning.  The  same  rebellion,  indeed,  which 
had  set  old  Adelbert  against  the  King  and  turned 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  CARNIVAL          413 

him  traitor,  a  rebellion  against  needless  disappoint 
ment,  a  protest  for  happiness. 

Old  Adelbert,  forbidden  to  march  in  his  new  uni 
form,  the  Crown  Prince,  forbidden  his  liberty  and 
shut  in  a  gloomy  palace,  were  blood-brothers  in 
revolt. 

Not  that  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  knew  he 
was  in  revolt.  At  first  it  consisted  only  of  a  consid 
eration  of  his  promise  to  the  Chancellor.  But  while 
there  had  been  an  understanding,  there  had  been 
no  actual  promise,  had  there? 

Late  in  the  morning  Nikky  took  him  to  the  roof. 
"We  can't  go  out,  old  man,"  Nikky  said  to  him, 
rather  startled  to  discover  the  unhappiness  in  the 
boy's  face,  "but  I  've  found  a  place  where  we  can  see 
more  than  we  can  here.  Suppose  we  try  it." 

"Why  can't  we  go  out?  I  Ve  always  gone  before." 

"Well,"  Nikky  temporized,  "they've  made  a  rule. 
They  make  a  good  many  rules,  you  know.  But  they 
said  nothing  about  the  roof." 

"The  roof!" 

"The  roof.  The  thing  that  covers  us  and  keeps 
out  the  weather.  The  roof,  Highness."  Nikky  al 
ternated  between  formality  and  the  other  extreme 
with  the  boy. 

"It  slants,  doesn't  it?"  observed  his  Highness 
doubtfully. 

"Part  of  it  is  quite  flat.  We  can  take  a  ball  up 
there,  and  get  some  exercise  while  we're  about  it." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Nikky  was  not  altogether 


4i4  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

unselfish.  He  would  visit  the  roof  again,  where  for 
terrible,  wonderful  moments  he  had  held  Hedwig  in 
his  arms.  On  a  pilgrimage,  indeed,  like  that  of  the 
Crown  Prince  to  Etzel,  Nikky  would  visit  his  shrine. 

So  they  went  to  the  roof.  They  went  through 
silent  corridors,  past  quiet  rooms  where  the  suite 
waited  and  spoke  in  whispers,  past  the  very  door  of 
the  chamber  where  the  Council  sat  in  session,  and 
where  reports  were  coming  in,  hour  by  hour,  as  to 
the  condition  of  things  outside.  Past  the  apartment 
of  the  Archduchess  Annunciata,  where  Hilda,  re 
leased  from  lessons,  was  trying  the  effect  of  jet  ear 
rings  against  her  white  skin,  and  the  Archduchess 
herself  was  sitting  by  her  fire,  and  contemplating  the 
necessity  for  flight.  In  her  closet  was  a  small  bag, 
already  packed  in  case  of  necessity.  Indeed,  more 
persons  than  the  Archduchess  Annunciata  had  so 
prepared.  MissBraithwaite,  for  instance,  had  spent 
a  part  of  the  night  over  a  traveling-case  containing 
a  small  boy's  outfit,  and  had  wept  as  she  worked, 
which  was  the  reason  for  her  headache. 

The  roof  proved  quite  wonderful.  One  could  see 
the  streets  crowded  with  people,  could  hear  the  soft 
blare  of  distant  horns. 

"The  Scenic  Railway  is  in  that  direction,"  ob 
served  the  Crown  Prince,  leaning  on  the  balustrade. 
"If  there  were  no  buildings  we  could  see  it." 

"Right  here,"  Nikky  was  saying  to  himself.  "At 
this  very  spot.  She  held  out  her  arms,  and  I  — " 

"It  looks  very  interesting,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  CARNIVAL          415 

William  Otto.  "Of  course  we  can't  see  the  costumes, 
but  it  is  better  than  nothing." 

"I  kissed  her,"  Nikky  was  thinking,  his  heart 
swelling  under  his  very  best  tunic.  "Her  head  was 
on  my  breast,  and  I  kissed  her.  Last  of  all,  I  kissed 
her  eyes  —  her  lovely  eyes." 

"  If  I  fell  off  here,"  observed  the  Crown  Prince  in 
a  meditative  voice,  "I  would  be  smashed  to  a  jelly, 
like  the  child  at  the  Crystal  Palace." 

"But  now  she  hates  me,"  said  Nikky's  heart, 
and  dropped  about  the  distance  of  three  buttons. 
"She  hates  me.  I  saw  it  in  her  eyes  this  morning. 
God!" 

"We  might  as  well  play  ball  now." 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  turned  away  from 
the  parapet  with  a  sigh.  This  strange  quiet  that 
filled  the  Palace  seemed  to  have  attacked  Nikky  too. 
Otto  hated  quiet. 

They  played  ball,  and  the  Crown  Prince  took  a 
lesson  in  curves.  But  on  his  third  attempt,  he  de 
scribed  such  a  compound  curve  that  the  ball  disap 
peared  over  an  adjacent  part  of  the  roof,  and  al 
though  Nikky  did  some  blood-curdling  climbing 
along  gutters,  it  could  not  be  found. 

It  was  then  that  the  Majordomo,  always  a  mar 
velous  figure  in  crimson  and  gold,  and  never  seen 
without  white  gloves  —  the  Majordomo  bowed  in 
a  window,  and  observed  that  if  His  Royal  High 
ness  pleased,  His  Royal  Highness's  luncheon  was 
served. 


4i6  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

In  the  shrouded  room  inside  the  windows,  how 
ever,  His  Royal  Highness  paused  and  looked  around. 

"I've  been  here  before,"  he  observed.  "These 
were  my  father's  rooms.  My  mother  lived  here,  too. 
When  I  am  older,  perhaps  I  can  have  them.  It 
would  be  convenient  on  account  of  my  practicing 
curves  on  the  roof.  But  I  should  need  a  number  of 
balls." 

He  was  rather  silent  on  his  way  back  to  the  school 
room.  But  once  he  looked  up  rather  wistfully  at 
Nikky. 

"If  they  were  living,"  he  said,  "I  am  pretty  sure 
they  would  take  me  out  to-day." 

Olga  Loschek  had  found  the  day  one  of  terror. 
Annunciata  had  demanded  her  attendance  all  morn 
ing,  had  weakened  strangely  and  demanded  fretfully 
to  be  comforted. 

"I  have  been  a  bad  daughter,"  she  would  say. 
"It  was  my  nature.  I  was  warped  and  soured  by 
wretchedness." 

"But  you  have  not  been  a  bad  daughter,"  the 
Countess  would  protest,  for  the  thousandth  time. 
"You  have  done  your  duty  faithfully.  You  have 
stayed  here  when  many  another  would  have  been 
traveling  on  the  Riviera,  or  — " 

"It  was  no  sacrifice,"  said  Annunciata,  in  her 
peevish  voice.  "I  loathe  traveling.  And  now  I  am 
being  made  to  suffer  for  all  I  have  done.  He  will  die, 
and  the  rest  of  us  —  what  will  happen  to  us?"  She 
shivered. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  CARNIVAL  417 

The  Countess  would  take  the  cue,  would  enlarge 
on  the  precautions  for  safety,  on  the  uselessness  of 
fear,  on  the  popularity  of  the  Crown  Prince.  And 
Annunciata,  for  a  time  at  least,  would  relax.  In  her 
new  remorse  she  made  frequent  visits  to  the  sick 
room,  passing,  a  long,  thin  figure,  clad  in  black, 
through  lines  of  bowing  gentlemen,  to  stand  by  the 
bed  and  wring  her  hands.  But  the  old  King  did  not 
even  know  she  was  there. 

The  failure  of  her  plan  as  to  Nikky  and  Hedwig 
was  known  to  the  Countess  the  night  before.  Hed 
wig  had  sent  for  her  and  faced  her  in  her  boudoir, 
very  white  and  calm. 

"  He  refuses,"  she  said.  "There  is  nothing  more 
to  do." 

"Refuses!" 

"He  has  promised  not  to  leave  Otto." 

Olga  Loschek  had  been  incredulous,  at  first.  It 
was  not  possible.  Men  in  love  did  not  do  these 
things.  It  was  not  possible,  that,  after  all,  she  had 
failed.  When  she  realized  it,  she  would  have  broken 
out  in  bitter  protest,  but  Hedwig's  face  warned  her. 
"He  is  right,  of  course,"  Hedwig  had  said.  "You 
and  I  were  wrong,  Countess.  There  is  nothing  to 
do  —  or  say." 

And  the  Countess  had  taken  her  defeat  quietly, 
with  burning  eyes  and  a  throat  dry  with  excitement. 

"I  am  sorry,  Highness,"  she  said  from  the  door 
way.  "  I  had  only  hoped  to  save  you  from  unhappi- 
ness.  That  is  all.  And,  as  you  say,  there  is  nothing 


4i8  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

to  be  done."  So  she  had  gone  away  and  faced  the 
night,  and  the  day  which  was  to  follow. 

The  plot  was  arranged,  to  the  smallest  detail. 
The  King,  living  now  only  so  long  as  it  was  decreed 
he  should  live,  would,  in  mid-afternoon,  commence 
to  sink.  The  entire  Court  would  be  gathered  in  ante 
rooms  and  salons  near  his  apartments.  In  his  rooms 
the  Crown  Prince  would  be  kept,  awaiting  the  sum 
mons  to  the  throne-room,  where,  on  the  King's 
death,  the  regency  would  be  declared,  and  the  Court 
would  swear  fealty  to  the  new  King,  Otto  the  Ninth. 
By  arrangement  with  the  captain  of  the  Palace 
guard,  who  was  one  of  the  Committee  of  Ten,  the 
sentries  before  the  Crown  Prince's  door  were  to  be  of 
the  revolutionary  party.  Mettlich  would  undoubt 
edly  be  with  the  King.  Remained  then  to  be  reck 
oned  with  only  the  Prince's  personal  servants,  Miss 
Braithwaite,  and  Nikky  Larisch. 

The  servants  offered  little  difficulty.  At  that  hour, 
four  o'clock,  probably  only  the  valet  Oskar  would 
be  on  duty,  and  his  station  was  at  the  end  of  a  cor 
ridor,  separated  by  two  doors  from  the  schoolroom. 
It  was  planned  that  the  two  men  who  were  to  secure 
the  Crown  Prince  were  to  wear  the  Palace  livery, 
and  to  come  with  a  message  that  the  Crown  Prince 
was  to  accompany  them.  Then,  instead  of  going  to 
the  wing  where  the  Court  was  gathered,  they  would 
go  up  to  Hubert's  rooms,  and  from  there  to  the  roof 
and  the  secret  passage. 

Two  obstacles  were  left  for  the  Countess  to  cope 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  CARNIVAL          419 

with,  and  this  was  her  part  of  the  work.  She  had 
already  a  plan  for  Miss  Braithwaite.  But  Nikky 
Larisch? 

Over  that  problem,  during  the  long  night  hours, 
Olga  Loschek  worked.  It  would  be  possible  to  over 
come  Nikky,  of  course.  There  would  be  four  men, 
with  the  sentries,  against  him.  But  that  would  mean 
struggle  and  an  alarm.  It  was  the  plan  to  achieve 
the  abduction  quietly,  so  quietly  that  for  perhaps  an 
hour  —  they  hoped  for  an  hour  —  there  would  be 
no  alarm.  Some  time  they  must  have,  enough  to 
make  the  long  journey  through  the  underground 
passage.  Otherwise  the  opening  at  the  gate  would  be 
closed,  and  the  party  caught  like  rats  in  a  hole. 

The  necessity  for  planning  served  one  purpose,  at 
least.  It  kept  her  from  thinking.  Possibly  it  saved 
her  reason,  for  there  were  times  during  that  last 
night  when  Olga  Loschek  was  not  far  from  madness. 
At  dawn,  long  after  Hedwig  had  forgotten  her  un- 
happiness  in  sleep,  the  Countess  went  wearily  to 
bed.  She  had  dismissed  Minna  hours  before,  and  as 
she  stood  before  her  mirror,  loosening  her  heavy 
hair,  she  saw  that  all  that  was  of  youth  and  loveli 
ness  in  her  had  died  in  the  night.  A  determined, 
scornful,  and  hard-eyed  woman,  she  went  drearily 
to  bed. 

During  the  early  afternoon  the  Chancellor  visited 
the  Crown  Prince.  Waiting  and  watching  had  made 
inroads  on  him,  too,  but  he  assumed  a  sort  of  heavy 
jocularity  for  the  boy's  benefit. 


420  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"No  lessons,  eh?"  he  said.  "Then  there  have 
been  no  paper  balls  for  the  tutors'  eyes,  eh?" 

"I  never  did  that  but  once,  sir,"  said  Prince  Fer 
dinand  William  Otto  gravely. 

"So!  Once  only!" 

"And  I  did  that  because  he  was  always  looking  at 
Hedwig's  picture." 

The  Chancellor  eyed  the  picture.  "  I  should  be  the 
last  to  condemn  him  for  that,"  he  said,  and  glanced 
at  Nikky. 

"We  must  get  the  lad  out  somewhere  for  some 
air,"  he  observed.  "  It  is  not  good  to  keep  him  shut 
up  like  this."  He  turned  to  the  Crown  Prince.  "In 
a  day  or  so,"  he  said,  "we  shall  all  go  to  the  summer 
palace.  You  would  like  that,  eh?" 

"Will  my  grandfather  be  able  to  go?" 

The  Chancellor  sighed.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  —  he 
will  go  to  the  country  also.  He  has  loved  it  very 
dearly." 

He  went,  shortly  after  three  o'clock.  And,  be 
cause  he  was  restless  and  uneasy,  he  made  a  round 
of  the  Palace,  and  of  the  guards.  Before  he  returned 
to  his  vigil  outside  the  King's  bedroom,  he  stood  for 
a  moment  by  a  window  and  looked  out.  Evidently 
rumors  of  the  King's  condition  had  crept  out,  in 
spite  of  their  caution.  The  Place,  kept  free  of  mur 
murs  by  the  police,  was  filling  slowly  with  people; 
people  who  took  up  positions  on  benches,  under  the 
trees,  and  even  sitting  on  the  curb  of  the  street.  An 
orderly  and  silent  crowd  it  seemed,  of  the  better 


THE  DAY    OF  THE  CARNIVAL          421 

class.  Here  and  there  he  saw  police  agents  in  plain 
clothes,  impassive  but  watchful,  on  the  lookout  for 
the  first  cry  of  treason. 

An  hour  or  two,  or  three  —  three  at  the  most  — 
and  the  fate  of  the  Palace  would  lie  in  the  hands  of 
that  crowd.  He  could  but  lead  the  boy  to  the  bal 
cony,  and  await  the  result. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
THE  PIRATE'S  DEN 

Miss  BRAITHWAITE  was  asleep  on  the  couch  in  her 
sitting-room,  deeply  asleep,  so  that  when  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto  changed  the  cold  cloth  on 
her  head,  she  did  not  even  move.  The  Countess 
Loschek  had  brought  her  some  medicine. 

"It  cured  her  very  quickly,"  said  the  Crown 
Prince,  shuffling  the  cards  with  clumsy  fingers.  He 
and  Nikky  were  playing  a  game  in  which  matches 
represented  money.  The  Crown  Prince  had  won 
nearly  all  of  them  and  was  quite  pink  with  excite 
ment.  "It's  my  deal,  isn't  it?  When  she  goes  to 
sleep  like  that,  she  nearly  always  wakens  up  much 
better.  She's  very  sound  asleep." 

Nikky  played  absently,  and  lost  the  game.  The 
Crown  Prince  triumphantly  scooped  up  the  rest  of 
the  matches.  "We've  had  rather  a  nice  day,"  he 
observed,  "even  if  we  did  n't  go  out.  Shall  we  divide 
them  again,  and  start  all  over?" 

Nikky,  however,  proclaimed  himself  hopelessly 
beaten  and  a  bad  loser.  So  the  Crown  Prince  put 
away  the  cards,  which  belonged  to  Miss  Braith- 
waite,  and  with  which  she  played  solitaire  in  the 
evenings.  Then  he  lounged  to  the  window,  his  hands 
in  his  pockets.  There  was  something  on  his  mind 


THE  PIRATE'S   DEN  423 

which  the  Chancellor's  reference  to  Hedwig's  picture 
had  recalled.  Something  he  wished  to  say  to  Nikky, 
without  looking  at  him. 

So  he  cleared  his  throat,  and  looked  out  the  win 
dow,  and  said,  very  casually:  — 

"  Hilda  says  that  Hedwig  is  going  to  get  married." 

"So  I  hear,  Highness." 

"She  doesn't  seem  to  be  very  happy  about  it. 
She's  crying,  most  of  the  time." 

It  was  Nikky's  turn  to  clear  his  throat.  "Mar 
riage  is  a  serious  matter,"  he  said.  "It  is  not  to  be 
gone  into  lightly." 

"Once,  when  I  asked  you  about  marriage,  you 
said  marriage  was  when  two  people  loved  each 
other,  and  wanted  to  be  together  the  rest  of  their 
lives." 

"Well,"  hedged  Nikky,  "that  is  the  idea,  rather." 

"I  should  think,"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto,  slightly  red,  "that  you  would  marry  her 
yourself." 

Nikky  being  beyond  speech  for  an  instant  and 
looking,  had  His  Royal  Highness  but  seen  him,  very 
tragic  and  somewhat  rigid,  the  Crown  Prince  went 
on:  — 

"She's  a  very  nice  girl,"  he  said;  "I  think  she 
would  make  a  good  wife." 

There  was  something  of  reproach  in  his  tone.  He 
had  confidently  planned  that  Nikky  would  marry 
Hedwig,  and  that  they  could  all  live  on  forever  in 
the  Palace.  But,  the  way  things  were  going,  Nikky 


424  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

might  marry  anybody,  and  go  away  to  live,  and  he 
would  lose  him. 

"Yes,"  said  Nikky,  in  a  strange  voice,  "she —  I 
am  sure  she  would  make  a  good  wife." 

At  which  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  turned 
and  looked  at  him.  "I  wish  you  would  marry  her 
yourself,"  he  said  with  his  nearest  approach  to  im 
patience.  "  I  think  she 'd  be  willing.  I '11  ask  her,  if 
you  want  me  to." 

Half-past  three,  then,  and  Nikky  trying  to  ex 
plain,  within  the  limits  of  the  boy's  understanding 
of  life,  his  position.  Members  of  royal  families,  he 
said,  looking  far  away,  over  the  child's  head,  had  to 
do  many  things  for  the  good  of  the  country.  And 
marrying  was  one  of  them.  Something  of  old  Mett- 
lich's  creed  of  prosperity  for  the  land  he  gave,  some 
thing  of  his  own  hopelessness,  too,  without  knowing 
it.  He  sat,  bent  forward,  his  hands  swung  between 
his  knees,  and  tried  to  visualize,  for  Otto's  under 
standing  and  his  own  heartache,  the  results  of  such  a 
marriage. 

Some  of  it  the  boy  grasped.  A  navy,  ships,  a  rail 
road  to  the  sea — those  he  could  understand.  Treaties 
were  beyond  his  comprehension.  And,  with  a  child's 
singleness  of  idea,  he  returned  to  the  marriage. 

"I'm  sure  she  does  n't  care  about  it,"  he  said  at 
last.  "If  I  were  King  I  would  not  let  her  do  it. 
And"  —  he  sat  very  erect  and  swung  his  short  legs 
—  "when  I  grow  up,  I  shall  fight  for  a  navy,  if  I 
want  one,  and  I  shall  marry  whoever  I  like." 


THE  PIRATE'S   DEN  425 

At  a  quarter  to  four  Olga  Loschek  was  announced. 
She  made  the  curtsy  inside  the  door  that  Palace 
ceremonial  demanded  and  inquired  for  the  gover 
ness.  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  who  had 
risen  at  her  entrance,  offered  to  see  if  she  still  slept. 

"I  think  you  are  a  very  good  doctor,"  he  said, 
smiling,  and  went  out  to  Miss  Braithwaite's  sitting- 
room. 

It  was  then  that  Olga  Loschek  played  the  last 
card,  and  won.  She  moved  quickly  to  Nikky's  side. 

"I  have  a  message  for  you,"  she  said. 

A  light  leaped  into  Nikky's  eyes.   "For  me?" 

"Do  you  know  where  my  boudoir  is?" 

"  I  --  yes,  Countess." 

"If  you  will  go  there  at  once  and  wait,  some  one 
will  see  you  there  as  soon  as  possible."  She  put  her 
hand  on  his  arm.  "  Don't  be  foolish  and  proud,"  she 
said.  "She  is  sorry  —  about  last  night,  and  she  is 
very  unhappy." 

The  light  faded  out  of  Nikky's  eyes.  She  was 
unhappy  and  he  could  do  nothing.  They  had  a  way, 
in  the  Palace,  of  binding  one's  hands  and  leaving  one 
helpless.  He  could  not  even  go  to  her. 

"  I  cannot  go,  Countess,"  he  said.  "She  must  un 
derstand.  To-day,  of  all  days- 

"You  mean  that  you  cannot  leave  the  Crown 
Prince?"  She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "You,  too! 
Never  have  I  seen  so  many  faint  hearts,  such  rolling 
eyes,  such  shaking  knees!  And  for  what!  Because 
a  few  timid  souls  see  a  danger  that  does  not  exist." 


426  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"I  think  it  does  exist,"  said  Nikky  obstinately. 

"  I  am  to  take  the  word  to  her,  then,  that  you  will 
not  come?" 

"That  I  cannot." 

"You  are  a  very  foolish  boy,"  said  the  Countess, 
watching  him.  "And  since  you  are  so  fearful,  I  my 
self  will  remain  here.  There  are  sentries  at  the  doors, 
and  a  double  guard  everywhere.  What,  in  the  name 
of  all  that  is  absurd,  can  possibly  happen?" 

That  was  when  she  won.  For  Nikky,  who  has 
never  been,  in  all  this  history,  anything  of  a  hero, 
and  all  of  the  romantic  and  loving  boy,  —  Nikky 
wavered  and  fell. 

When  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  returned,  it 
was  with  the  word  that  Miss  Braithwaite  still  slept, 
and  that  she  looked  very  comfortable,  Nikky  was 
gone,  and  the  Countess  stood  by  a  window,  holding 
to  the  sill  to  support  her  shaking  body. 

It  was  done.  The  boy  was  in  her  hands.  There 
was  left  only  to  deliver  him  to  those  who,  even  now, 
were  on  the  way.  Nikky  was  safe.  He  would  wait  in 
her  boudoir,  and  Hedwig  would  not  come.  She  had 
sent  no  message.  She  was,  indeed,  at  that  moment 
a  part  of  one  of  those  melancholy  family  groups 
which,  the  world  over,  in  palace  or  peasant's  hut, 
await  the  coming  of  death. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  chatted.  He  got 
out  the  picture-frame  for  Hedwig,  which  was  fin 
ished  now,  with  the  exception  of  burning  his  initials 
in  the  lower  left-hand  corner.  After  inquiring  po- 


THE  PIRATE'S  DEN  427 

litely  if  the  smell  of  burning  would  annoy  her,  the 
Crown  Prince  drew  a  rather  broken-backed  "F,"  a 
weak-kneed  "W,"  and  an  irregular  "O"  in  the  cor 
ner  and  proceeded  to  burn  them  in.  He  sat  bent 
over  the  desk,  the  very  tip  of  his  tongue  protruding, 
and  worked  conscientiously  and  carefully.  Between 
each  letter  he  burned  a  dot. 

Suddenly,  Olga  Loschek  became  panic-stricken. 
She  could  not  stay,  and  see  this  thing  out.  Let  them 
follow  her  and  punish  her.  She  could  not.  She  had 
done  her  part.  The  governess  lay  in  a  drugged  sleep. 
A  turn  of  the  key,  and  the  door  to  the  passage  be 
yond  which  Oskar  waited  would  be  closed  off.  Let 
follow  what  must,  she  would  not  see  it. 

The  boy  still  bent  over  his  work.  She  wandered 
about  the  room,  casually,  as  if  examining  the  pic 
tures  on  the  wall.  She  stopped,  for  a  bitter  moment, 
before  Hedwig's  photograph,  and,  for  a  shaken  one, 
before  those  of  Prince  Hubert  and  his  wife.  Then 
she  turned  the  key,  and  shut  Oskar  safely  away. 

"Highness,"  she  said,  "Lieutenant  Larisch  will  be 
here  in  a  moment.  Will  you  permit  me  to  go?" 

Otto  was  off  his  chair  in  an  instant.  "Certainly," 
he  said,  his  mind  still  on  the  "O"  which  he  was 
shading. 

Old  habit  was  strong  in  the  Countess.  Although 
the  boy's  rank  was  numbered  by  moments,  although 
his  life  was  possibly  to  be  counted  by  hours,  she 
turned  at  the  doorway  and  swept  him  a  curtsy. 
Then  she  went  out,  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 


428  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

The  two  sentries  stood  outside.  They  were  of  the 
Terrorists.  She  knew,  and  they  knew  she  knew.  But 
neither  one  made  a  sign.  They  stared  ahead,  and 
Olga  Loschek  went  out  between  them. 

Now  the  psychology  of  the  small  boy  is  a  curious 
thing.  It  is,  for  one  thing,  retentive.  Ideas  become, 
given  time,  obsessions.  And  obsessions  are  likely  to 
lead  to  action. 

The  Crown  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  was 
only  a  small  boy,  for  all  his  title  and  dignity.  And 
suddenly  he  felt  lonely.  Left  alone,  he  returned  to 
his  expectations  for  the  day,  and  compared  them 
with  the  facts.  He  remembered  other  carnivals, 
with  his  carriage  moving  through  the  streets,  and 
people  showering  him  with  fresh  flowers.  He  rather 
glowed  at  the  memory.  Then  he  recalled  that  the 
Chancellor  had  said  he  needed  fresh  air. 

Something  occurred  to  him,  something  which 
combined  fresh  air  with  action,  yet  kept  to  the  letter 
of  his  promise  —  or  was  there  a  promise?  —  not  to 
leave  the  Palace. 

The  idea  pleased  him.  It  set  him  to  smiling,  and 
his  bright  hair  to  quivering  with  excitement.  It  was 
nothing  less  than  to  go  up  on  the  roof  and  find  the 
ball.  Nikky  would  be  surprised,  having  failed  him 
self.  He  would  have  to  be  very  careful,  having  in 
mind  the  fate  of  that  unlucky  child  at  the  Crystal 
Palace.  And  he  would  have  to  hurry.  Nikky  would 
be  sure  to  return  soon. 

He  opened  the  door  on  to  the  great  corridor,  and 


THE  PIRATE'S  DEN  429 

stepped  out,  saluting  the  sentries,  as  he  always 
did. 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  moment,"  he  informed  them. 
He  was  always  on  terms  of  great  friendliness  with 
the  guard,  and  he  knew  these  men  by  sight.  "Are 
you  going  to  be  stationed  here  now?"  he  inquired 
pleasantly. 

The  two  guards  were  at  a  loss.  But  one  of  them, 
who  had  a  son  of  his  own,  and  hated  the  whole  busi 
ness,  saluted  and  replied  that  he  knew  not. 

"I  hope  you  are,"  said  Ferdinand  William  Otto, 
and  went  on. 

The  sentries  regarded  one  another.  "Let  him 
go!"  said  the  one  who  was  a  father. 

The  other  one  moved  uneasily.  ' '  Our  orders  cover 
no  such  contingency,"  he  muttered.  "And,  besides, 
he  will  come  back."  He  bore  a  strong  resemblance 
to  the  boy,  who,  in  the  riding-school,  had  dusted  the 
royal  hearse.  "I  hope  to  God  he  does  not  come 
back,"  he  said  stonily. 

Five  minutes  to  four. 

The  Crown  Prince  hurried.  The  corridors  were 
almost  empty.  Here  and  there  he  met  servants,  who 
stood  stiff  against  the  wall  until  he  had  passed.  On 
the  marble  staircase,  leading  up,  he  met  no  one,  nor 
on  the  upper  floor.  He  was  quite  warm  with  running 
and  he  paused  in  his  father's  suite  to  mop  his  face. 
Then  he  opened  a  window  and  went  out  on  the  roof. 
It  seemed  very  large  and  empty  now,  and  the  after 
noon  sun,  sinking  low,  threw  shadows  across  it. 


430  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Also,  from  the  balustrade,  it  looked  extremely  far  to 
the  ground. 

Nevertheless,  although  his  heart  beat  a  trifle  fast, 
he  was  still  determined.  A  climb  which  Nikky  with 
his  long  legs  had  achieved  in  a  leap,  took  him  up  to  a 
chimney.  Below  —  it  seemed  a  long  way  below  — 
was  the  gutter.  There  was  a  very  considerable  slant. 
If  one  sat  down,  like  Nikky,  and  slid,  and  did  not 
slide  over  the  edge,  one  should  fetch  up  in  the  gutter. 

He  felt  a  trifle  dizzy.  But  Nikky's  theory  was, 
that  if  one  is  afraid  to  do  a  thing,  better  to  do  it  and 
get  over  being  afraid. 

"I  was  terribly  afraid  of  a  bayonet  attack," 
Nikky  had  observed,  "until  I  was  in  one.  The  next 
one  I  rather  enjoyed!" 

So  the  Crown  Prince  sat  down  on  the  sloping  roof 
behind  the  chimney,  and  gathered  his  legs  under  him 
for  a  slide. 

Then  he  heard  a  door  open,  and  footsteps.  Very 
careful  footsteps.  He  was  quite  certain  Nikky  had 
followed  him.  But  there  were  cautious  voices,  too, 
and  neither  was  Nikky's.  It  occurred  to  Prince 
Ferdinand  William  Otto  that  a  good  many  people, 
certainly  including  Miss  Braithwaite,  would  not  ap 
prove  of  either  his  situation  or  his  position.  Miss 
Braithwaite  was  particularly  particular  about  posi 
tions. 

So  he  sat  still  beside  the  chimney,  well  shielded 
by  the  evergreens  in  tubs,  until  the  voices  and  the 
footsteps  were  gone.  Then  he  took  all  his  courage  in 


THE  PIRATE'S  DEN  431 

his  hands,  and  slid.  Well  for  him  that  the  ancient 
builders  of  the  Palace  had  been  reckless  with  lead, 
that  the  gutter  was  both  wide  and  deep.  Well  for 
Nikky,  too,  waiting  in  the  boudoir  below  and  hard- 
driven  between  love  and  anxiety. 

The  Crown  Prince,  unaccustomed  to  tiles,  turned 
over  halfway  down,  and  rolled.  He  brought  up 
with  a  jerk  in  the  gutter,  quite  safe,  but  extremely 
frightened.  And  the  horrid  memory  of  the  Crystal 
Palace  child  filled  his  mind,  to  the  exclusion  of 
everything  else.  He  sat  there  for  quite  a  few  min 
utes.  There  was  no  ball  in  sight,  and  the  roof  looked 
even  steeper  from  this  point. 

Being  completely  self-engrossed,  therefore,  he  did 
not  see  that  the  roof  had  another  visitor.  Had  two 
visitors,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  One  of  them  wore  a 
blanket  with  a  white  "O"over  a  white  "X"  on  it, 
and  the  other  wore  a  mask,  and  considerable  kitchen 
cutlery  fastened  to  his  belt.  They  had  come  out  of  a 
small  door  in  the  turret  and  were  very  much  at  ease. 
They  leaned  over  the  parapet  and  admired  the  view. 
They  strutted  about  the  flat  roof,  and  sang,  at  least 
one  of  them  sang  a  very  strange  refrain,  which  was 
something  about 

"Fifteen  men  on  a  dead  man's  chest; 
Yo-ho-ho  and  a  bottle  of  rum." 

And  then  they  climbed  on  one  of  the  garden  chairs 
and  looked  over  the  expanse  of  the  roof,  which  was 
when  they  saw  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  and 
gazed  at  him. 


432  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"Gee  whiz!"  said  the  larger  pirate,  through  his 
mask.  "What  are  you  doing  there?" 

The  Crown  Prince  started,  and  stared.  "I  am 
sitting  here,"  explained  the  Crown  Prince,  trying  to 
look  as  though  he  usually  sat  in  lead  gutters.  "  I  am 
looking  for  a  ball." 

"You're  looking  for  a  fall,  I  guess,"  observed  the 
pirate.  "You  don't  remember  me,  kid,  do  you?" 

"I  can't  see  your  face,  but  I  know  your  voice." 
His  voice  trembled  with  excitement. 

"Lemme  give  you  a  hand,"  said  the  pirate,  whip 
ping  off  his  mask.  "You  make  me  nervous,  sitting 
there.  You've  got  a  nerve,  you  have." 

The  Crown  Prince  looked  gratified.  "  I  don't  need 
any  assistance,  thank  you,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps,  now 
I  'm  here,  I  'd  better  look  for  the  ball." 

"I  wouldn't  bother  about  the  old  ball,"  said 
the  pirate,  rather  nervously  for  an  old  sea-dog. 
"You  better  get  back  to  a  safe  place.  Say,  what 
made  you  pretend  that  our  Railway  made  you  ner 
vous?" 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  climbed  up  the 
tiles,  trying  to  look  as  though  tiles  were  his  native 
habitat.  The  pirates  both  regarded  him  with  ad 
miration,  as  he  dropped  beside  them. 

"How  did  you  happen  to  come  here?"  asked  the 
Crown  Prince.  "Did  you  lose  your  aeroplane  up 
here?" 

"We  came  on  business,"  said  the  pirate  impor 
tantly.  "Two  of  the  enemy  entered  our  cave.  We 


THE  PIRATE'S  DEN  433 

were  guarding  it  from  the  underbrush,  and  saw  them 
go  in.  We  trailed  them.  They  must  die!" 

"Really  — die?" 

"Of  course.   Death  to  those  who  defy  us." 

"Death  to  those  who  defy  us!"  repeated  the 
Crown  Prince,  enjoying  himself  hugely,  and  quite 
ready  for  bloodshed. 

"Look  here,  Dick  Deadeye,"  said  the  larger  pirate 
to  the  smaller,  who  stood  gravely  at  attention,  "I 
think  he  belongs  to  our  crew.  What  say,  old  pal?" 

Dick  Deadeye  wagged  his  tail. 

Some  two  minutes  later,  the  Crown  Prince  of 
Livonia,  having  sworn  the  pirate  oath  of  no  quarter, 
except  to  women  and  children,  was  on  his  way  to  the 
pirate  cave. 

He  was  not  running  away.  He  was  not  disobe 
dient.  He  was  breaking  no  promises.  Because,  from 
the  moment  he  saw  the  two  confederates,  and  par 
ticularly  from  the  moment  he  swore  the  delightful 
oath,  his  past  was  wiped  away.  There  was,  in  his 
consciousness,  no  Palace,  no  grandfather,  no  Miss 
Braithwaite,  even  no  Nikky.  There  was  only  a  boy 
and  a  dog,  and  a  pirate  den  awaiting  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE    PAPER   CROWN 

STRANGE  that  the  old  Palace  roof  should,  in  close 
succession,  have  seen  Nikky  forgetting  his  promise 
to  the  Chancellor,  and  Otto  forgetting  that  he  was 
not  to  run  away.  Strange  places,  roofs,  abiding- 
places,  since  long  ago,  of  witches. 

"How'd  you  happen  to  be  in  that  gutter?" 
Bobby  demanded,  as  they  started  down  the  stair 
case  in  the  wall.  "Watch  out,  son,  it's  pretty  steep." 

"I  was  getting  a  ball." 

"Is  this  your  house?" 

"Well,  I  live  here,"  temporized  Prince  Ferdinand 
William  Otto.  A  terrible  thought  came  to  him. 
Suppose  this  American  boy,  who  detested  kings 
and  princes,  should  learn  who  he  was! 

"It  looks  like  a  big  place.    Is  it  a  barracks?" 

"No."  He  hesitated.  "  But  there  are  a  good  many 
soldiers  here.  I  —  I  never  saw  these  steps  before." 

"I  should  think  not,"  boasted  Bobby.  "I  dis 
covered  them.  I  guess  nobody  else  in  the  world 
knows  about  them.  I  put  up  a  flag  at  the  bot 
tom  and  took  possession.  They're  mine." 

"Really!"  said  Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto, 
quite  delighted.  He  would  never  have  thought  of 
such  a  thing. 


THE  PAPER  CROWN  435 

A  door  of  iron  bars  at  the  foot  of  the  long  flight  of 
steps  —  there  were  four  of  them  —  stood  open. 
Here  daylight,  which  had  been  growing  fainter,  en 
tirely  ceased.  And  here  Bobby,  having  replaced  his 
mask,  placed  an  air-rifle  over  his  shoulder,  and 
lighted  a  candle  and  held  it  out  to  the  Crown  Prince. 

"You  can  carry  it,"  he  said.  "Only  don't  let  it 
drip  on  you.  You'll  spoil  your  clothes."  There  was 
a  faintly  scornful  note  in  his  voice,  and  Ferdinand 
William  Otto  was  quick  to  hear  it. 

"I  don't  care  at  all  about  my  clothes,"  he  pro 
tested.  And  to  prove  it  he  deliberately  tilted  the 
candle  and  let  a  thin  stream  of  paraffin  run  down  his 
short  jacket. 

"You're  a  pretty  good  sport,"  Bobby  observed. 
And  from  that  time  on  he  addressed  His  Royal  High 
ness  as  "old  sport." 

"Walk  faster,  old  sport,"  he  would  say.  "That 
candle's  pretty  short,  and  we've  got  a  long  way  to 
go."  Or —  "Say,  old  sport,  I'll  make  you  a  mask 
like  this,  if  you  like.  I  made  this  one." 

When  they  reached  the  old  dungeon  the  candle 
was  about  done.  There  was  only  time  to  fashion  an 
other  black  mask  out  of  a  piece  of  cloth  that  bore 
a  strange  resemblance  to  a  black  waistcoat.  The 
Crown  Prince  donned  this  with  a  wildly  beating 
heart.  Never  in  all  his  life  had  he  been  so  excited. 
Even  Dick  Deadeye  was  interested,  and  gave  up  his 
scenting  of  the  strange  footsteps  that  he  had  fol 
lowed  through  the  passage,  to  watch  the  proceedings. 


436  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING! 

"We  can  get  another  candle,  and  come  back  and 
cook  something,"  said  the  senior  pirate,  tying  the 
mask  on  with  pieces  of  brown  string.  "It  gets  pretty 
smoky,  but  I  can  cook,  you'd  better  believe." 

So  this  wonderful  boy  could  cook,  also!  The 
Crown  Prince  had  never  met  any  one  with  so  many 
varied  attainments.  He  gazed  through  the  eyeholes, 
which  were  rather  too  far  apart,  in  rapt  admiration. 

"As  you  have  n't  got  a  belt,"  Bobby  said  gener 
ously,  "  I  '11  give  you  the  rifle.  Ever  hold  a  gun?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  Crown  Prince.  He  did  not 
explain  that  he  had  been  taught  to  shoot  on  the  rifle- 
range  of  his  own  regiment,  and  had  won  quite  a 
number  of  medals.  He  possessed,  indeed,  quite  a 
number  of  small  but  very  perfect  guns. 

With  the  last  gasp  of  the  candle,  the  children  pre 
pared  to  depart.  The  senior  pirate  had  already  for 
gotten  the  two  men  he  had  trailed  through  the  pas 
sage,  and  was  eager  to  get  outdoors. 

"Ready!"  he  said.  "Now.,  remember,  old  sport, 
we  are  pirates.  No  quarter,  except  to  women  and 
children.  Shoot  every  man." 

"Even  if  he  is  unarmed?"  inquired  the  Crown 
Prince,  who  had  also  studied  strategy  and  tactics, 
and  felt  that  an  unarmed  man  should  be  taken 
prisoner. 

"Sure.  We  don't  really  shoot  them,  silly.  Now. 
Get  in  step. 

' '  Fifteen  men  on  a  dead  man's  chest  — 
Yo-ho-ho  and  a  bottle  of  rum.'  " 


THE  PAPER  CROWN  437 

They  marched  up  the  steps  and  out  through  the 
opening  at  the  top.  If  there  were  any  who  watched, 
outside  the  encircling  growth  of  evergreens,  they 
were  not  on  the  lookout  for  two  small  boys  and  a 
dog.  And,  as  became  pirates,  the  children  made  a 
stealthy  exit. 

Then  began,  for  the  Crown  Prince,  such  a  day  of 
joy  as  he  had  never  known  before.  Even  the  Land 
of  Delight  faded  before  this  new  bliss  of  stalking 
from  tree  to  tree,  of  killing  unsuspecting  citizens  who 
sat  on  rugs  on  the  ground  and  ate  sausages  and  little 
cakes.  Here  and  there,  where  a  party  had  moved  on, 
they  salvaged  a  bit  of  food  —  the  heel  of  a  loaf,  one 
of  the  small  country  apples.  Shades  of  the  Court 
Physicians,  under  whose  direction  the  Crown  Prince 
was  daily  fed  a  carefully  balanced  ration! 

When  they  were  weary,  they  stretched  out  on 
the  ground,  and  the  Crown  Prince,  whose  bed  was 
nightly  dried  with  a  warming-pan  for  fear  of  damp 
ness,  wallowed  blissfully  on  earth  still  soft  with  the 
melting  frosts  of  the  winter.  He  grew  muddy  and 
dirty.  He  had  had  no  hat,  of  course,  and  his  bright 
hair  hung  over  his  forehead  in  moist  strands.  Now 
and  then  he  drew  a  long  breath  of  sheer  happiness. 

Around  them  circled  the  gayety  of  the  Carnival, 
bands  of  students  in  white,  with  the  tall  peaked  caps 
of  Pierrots.  Here  and  there  was  a  scarlet  figure,  a 
devil  with  horns,  who  watched  the  crowd  warily. 
A  dog,  with  the  tulle  petticoats  of  a  dancer  tied 
around  it  and  a  great  bow  on  its  neck,  made  friends 


438  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

with  Dick  Deadeye,  alms  Tucker,  and  joined  the 
group. 

But,  as  dusk  descended,  the  crowd  gradually  dis 
persed,  some  to  supper,  but  some  to  gather  in  the 
Place  and  in  the  streets  around  the  Palace.  For  the 
rumor  that  the  King  was  dying  would  not  down. 

At  last  the  senior  pirate  consulted  a  large  nickel 
watch. 

"Gee!  it's  almost  supper  time,"  he  said. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  consulted  his  own 
watch,  the  one  with  the  inscription:  "To  Ferdinand 
William  Otto,  from  his  grandfather,  on  the  occasion 
of  his  taking  his  first  communion." 

"Why  can't  you  come  home  to  supper  with  me?" 
asked  the  senior  pirate.  "Would  your  folks  kick  up 
a  row?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon?" 

"Would  your  family  object?" 

"There  is  only  one  person  who  would  mind," 
reflected  the  Crown  Prince,  aloud,  "and  she  will  be 
angry  anyhow.  I  —  do  you  think  your  mother  will 
be  willing?" 

"Willing?  Sure  she  will!  My  governess  —  but 
I'll  fix  her.  She's  a  German,  and  they're  always 
cranky.  Anyhow,  it's  my  birthday.  I'm  always 
allowed  a  guest  on  birthdays." 

So  home  together,  gayly  chatting,  went  the  two 
children,  along  the  cobble-paved  streets  of  the  an 
cient  town,  past  old  churches  that  had  been  sacked 
and  pillaged  by  the  very  ancestors  of  one  of  them, 


THE  PAPER  CROWN  439 

taking  short  cuts  through  narrow  passages  that 
twisted  and  wormed  their  way  between,  and  some 
times  beneath,  century-old  stone  houses;  across  the 
flower-market,  where  faint  odors  of  dying  violets 
and  crushed  lilies-of-the-valley  still  clung  to  the  bare 
wooden  booths;  and  so,  finally,  to  the  door  of  a  tall 
building  where,  from  the  concierge's  room  beside  the 
entrance,  came  a  reek  of  stewing  garlic. 

Neither  of  the  children  had  noticed  the  unwonted 
silence  of  the  streets,  which  had,  almost  suddenly, 
succeeded  the  noise  of  the  Carnival.  What  few 
passers-by  they  had  seen  had  been  hurrying  in  the 
direction  of  the  Palace.  Twice  they  had  passed  sol 
diers,  with  lanterns,  and  once  one  had  stopped  and 
flashed  a  light  on  them. 

"Well,  old  sport!"  said  Bobby  in  English,  "any 
thing  you  can  do  for  me?" 

The  soldier  had  passed  on,  muttering  at  the  in 
solence  of  American  children.  The  two  youngsters 
laughed  consumedly  at  the  witticism.  They  were 
very  happy,  the  lonely  little  American  boy  and  the 
lonely  little  Prince  —  happy  from  sheer  gregarious- 
ness,  from  the  satisfaction  of  that  strongest  of  hu 
man  inclinations,  next  to  love  —  the  social  instinct. 

The  concierge  was  out.  His  niece  admitted  them, 
and  went  back  to  her  interrupted  cooking.  The 
children  hurried  up  the  winding  stone  staircase,  with 
its  iron  rail  and  its  gas  lantern,  to  the  second  floor. 

In  the  sitting-room,  the  sour-faced  governess  was 
darning  a  hole  in  a  small  stocking.  She  was  as  close 


440  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

as  possible  to  the  green-tile  stove,  and  she  was  look 
ing  very  unpleasant ;  for  the  egg-shaped  darner  only 
slipped  through  the  hole,  which  was  a  large  one. 
With  an  irritable  gesture  she  took  off  her  slipper, 
and,  putting  one  coarse-stockinged  foot  on  the  fen 
der,  proceeded  to  darn  by  putting  the  slipper  into 
the  stocking  and  working  over  it. 

Things  looked  unpropitious.  The  Crown  Prince 
ducked  behind  Bobby. 

The  Fraulein  looked  at  the  clock. 

"You  are  fifteen  minutes  late,"  she  snapped,  and 
bit  the  darning  thread  —  not  with  rage,  but  because 
she  had  forgotten  her  scissors. 

"I'm  sorry,  but  you  see — " 

"Whom  have  you  there?" 

The  Prince  cowered.  She  looked  quite  like  his 
grandfather  when  his  tutor's  reports  had  been 
unfavorable. 

"A  friend  of  mine,"  said  Bobby,  not  a  whit 
daunted. 

The  governess  put  down  the  stocking  and  rose. 
In  so  doing,  she  caught  her  first  real  glimpse  of  Fer 
dinand  William  Otto,  and  she  staggered  back. 

"Holy  Saints!"  she  said,  and  went  white.  Then 
she  stared  at  the  boy,  and  her  color  came  back. 
"For  a  moment,"  she  muttered  "  —  but  no.  He  is 
not  so  tall,  nor  has  he  the  manner.  Yes,  he  is  much 
smaller!" 

Which  proves  that,  whether  it  wears  it  or  not, 
royalty  is  always  measured  to  the  top  of  a  crown. 


THE  PAPER  CROWN  441 

In  the  next  room  Bobby's  mother  was  arranging 
candles  on  a  birthday  cake  in  the  center  of  the 
table.  Pepy  had  iced  the  cake  herself,  and  had  for 
gotten  one  of  the  ' '  b ' s  "  in  "  Bobby ' '  so  that  the  cake 
really  read  :"Boby  —  XII." 

However,  it  looked  delicious,  and  inside  had  been 
baked  a  tiny  black  china  doll  and  a  new  American 
penny,  with  Abraham  Lincoln's  head  on  it.  The 
penny  was  for  good  fortune,  but  the  doll  was  a  joke 
of  Pepy's,  Bobby  being  aggressively  masculine. 

Bobby,  having  passed  the  outpost,  carried  the 
rest  of  the  situation  by  assault.  He  rushed  into  the 
dining-room  and  kissed  his  mother,  with  one  eye  on 
the  cake. 

"Mother,  here's  company  to  supper!  Oh,  look  at 
the  cake!  'B-O-B-Y'!  Mother!  That's  awful!" 

Mrs.  Thorpe  looked  at  the  cake.  "Poor  Pepy," 
she  said.  "Suppose  she  had  made  it  'Booby'?" 
Then  she  saw  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  and  went 
over,  somewhat  puzzled,  with  her  hand  out.  "  I  am 
very  glad  Bobby  brought  you,"  she  said.  "He  has 
so  few  little  friends  — ' 

Then  she  stopped,  for  the  Prince  had  brought  his 
heels  together  sharply,  and,  bending  over  her  hand, 
had  kissed  it,  exactly  as  he  kissed  his  Aunt  Annun- 
ciata's  when  he  went  to  have  tea  with  her.  Mrs. 
Thorpe  was  fairly  startled,  not  at  the  kiss,  but  at  the 
grace  with  which  the  tribute  was  rendered. 

Then  she  looked  down,  and  it  restored  her  com 
posure  to  find  that  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  too, 


442  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

had  turned  eyes  toward  the  cake.  He  was,  after  all, 
only  a  hungry  small  boy.  With  quick  tenderness  she 
stooped  and  kissed  him  gravely  on  the  forehead. 

Caresses  were  strange  to  Ferdinand  William  Otto. 
His  warm  little  heart  leaped  and  pounded.  At  that 
moment,  he  would  have  died  for  her! 

Mr.  Thorpe  came  home  a  little  late.  He  kissed 
Bobby  twelve  times,  and  one  to  grow  on.  He  shook 
hands  absently  with  the  visitor,  and  gave  the  Frau- 
lein  the  evening  paper  —  an  extravagance  on  which 
he  insisted,  although  one  could  read  the  news  for 
nothing  by  going  to  the  cafe  on  the  corner.  Then  he 
drew  his  wife  aside. 

"Look  here!"  he  said.  "Don't  tell  Bobby  — no 
use  exciting  him,  and  of  course  it's  not  our  funeral 
anyhow  —  but  there 's  a  report  that  the  Crown 
Prince  has  been  kidnapped.  And  that's  not  all. 
The  old  King  is  dying!" 

"How  terrible!" 

"Worse  than  that.  The  old  King  gone  and  no 
Crown  Prince!  It  may  mean  almost  any  sort  of 
trouble!  I've  closed  up  at  the  Park  for  the  night." 
His  arm  around  his  wife,  he  looked  through  the 
doorway  to  where  Bobby  and  Ferdinand  were 
counting  the  candles.  "It's  made  me  think  pretty 
hard,"  he  said.  "Bobby  mustn't  go  around  alone 
the  way  he's  been  doing.  All  Americans  here  are 
considered  millionaires.  If  the  Crown  Prince  could 
go,  think  how  easy  — " 

His  arm  tightened  around  his  wife,  and  together 


THE  PAPER  CROWN  443 

they  went  in  to  the  birthday  feast.  Ferdinand  Wil 
liam  Otto  was  hungry.  He  ate  eagerly  —  chicken, 
fruit  compote,  potato  salad  —  again  shades  of  the 
Court  physicians,  who  fed  him  at  night  a  balanced 
ration  of  milk,  egg,  and  zwieback!  Bobby  also  ate 
busily,  and  conversation  languished. 

Then  the  moment  came  when,  the  first  cravings 
appeased,  they  sat  back  in  their  chairs  while  Pepy 
cleared  the  table  and  brought  in  a  knife  to  cut  the 
cake.  Mr.  Thorpe  had  excused  himself  for  a  mo 
ment.  Now  he  came  back,  with  a  bottle  wrapped  in 
a  newspaper,  and  sat  down  again. 

"I  thought,"  he  said,  "as  this  is  a  real  occasion, 
not  exactly  Robert's  coming  of  age,  but  marking  his 
arrival  at  years  of  discretion,  the  period  when  he 
ceases  to  be  a  small  boy  and  becomes  a  big  one,  we 
might  drink  a  toast  to  it." 

"Robert!"  objected  the  big  boy's  mother. 

"A  teaspoonful  each,  honey,"  he  begged.  "It 
changes  it  from  a  mere  supper  to  a  festivity." 

He  poured  a  few  drops  of  wine  into  the  children's 
glasses,  and  filled  them  up  with  water.  Then  he 
filled  the  others,  and  sat  smiling,  this  big  young  man, 
who  had  brought  his  loved  ones  across  the  sea,  and 
was  trying  to  make  them  happy  up  a  flight  of  stone 
stairs,  above  a  concierge's  bureau  that  smelled  of 
garlic. 

"First,"  he  said,  "I  believe  it  is  customary  to 
toast  the  King.  Friends,  I  give  you  the  good  King 
and  brave  soldier,  Ferdinand  of  Livonia." 


444  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

They  stood  up  to  drink  it,  and  even  Pepy  had  a 
glass. 

Ferdinand  William  Otto  was  on  his  feet  first.  He 
held  his  glass  up  in  his  right  hand,  and  his  eyes 
shone.  He  knew  what  to  do.  He  had  seen  the  King's 
health  drunk  any  number  of  times. 

"To  His  Majesty,  Ferdinand  of  Livonia,"  he  said 
solemnly.  "God  keep  the  King!" 

Over  their  glasses  Mrs.  Thorpe's  eyes  met  her 
husband's.  How  they  trained  their  children  here! 

But  Ferdinand  William  Otto  had  not  finished.  "  I 
give  you,"  he  said,  in  his  clear  young  treble,  holding 
his  glass,  "the  President  of  the  United  States  —  The 
President!" 

"The  President!"  said  Mr.  Thorpe. 

They  drank  again,  except  the  Fraulein,  who  disap 
proved  of  children  being  made  much  of,  and  only 
pretended  to  sip  her  wine. 

"Bobby,"  said  his  mother,  with  a  catch  in  her 
voice,  "haven't  you  something  to  suggest  —  as  a 
toast?" 

Bobby's  eyes  were  on  the  cake ;  he  came  back  with 
difficulty. 

"Well,"  he  meditated,  "I  guess  — would  'Home' 
be  all  right?" 

"Home!"  they  all  said,  a  little  shakily,  and  drank 
to  it. 

Home !  To  the  Thorpes,  a  little  house  on  a  shady 
street  in  America;  to  the  Fraulein,  a  thatched  cot 
tage  in  the  mountains  of  Germany  and  an  old 


THE  PAPER  CROWN  445 

mother;  to  Pepy,  the  room  in  a  tenement  where  she 
went  at  night;  to  Ferdinand  William  Otto,  a  formal 
suite  of  apartments  in  the  Palace,  surrounded  by 
pomp,  ordered  by  rule  and  precedent,  hardened  by 
military  discipline,  and  unsoftened  by  family  love, 
save  for  the  grim  affection  of  the  old  King. 

Home! 

After  all,  Pepy's  plan  went  astray,  for  the  Frau- 
lein  got  the  china  baby,  and  Ferdinand  William 
Otto  the  Lincoln  penny. 

"That,"  said  Bobby's  father,  "is  a  Lincoln  penny, 
young  man.  It  bears  the  portrait  of  Abraham  Lin 
coln.  Have  you  ever  heard  of  him?" 

The  Prince  looked  up.  Did  he  not  know  the 
"Gettysburg  Address"  by  heart? 

"Yes,  sir, "he  said.  "The — my  grandfather  thinks 
that  President  Lincoln  was  a  very  great  man." 

"One  of  the  world's  greatest.  I  hardly  thought, 
over  here  -  '  Mr.  Thorpe  paused  and  looked  specu- 
latively  at  the  boy.  "You'd  better  keep  that  penny 
where  you  won't  lose  it,"  he  said  soberly.  "It 
doesn't  hurt  us  to  try  to  be  good.  If  you're  in 
trouble,  think  of  the  difficulties  Abraham  Lincoln 
surmounted.  If  you  want  to  be  great,  think  how 
great  he  was."  He  was  a  trifle  ashamed  of  his  own 
earnestness.  "All  that  for  a  penny,  young  man!" 

The  festivities  were  taking  a  serious  turn.  There 
was  a  little  packet  at  each  plate,  and  now  Bobby's 
mother  reached  over  and  opened  hers. 


446  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

"Oh!"  she  said,  and  exhibited  a  gaudy  tissue- 
paper  bonnet.  Everybody  had  one.  Mr.  Thorpe's 
was  a  dunce's  cap,  and  Fraulein's  a  giddy  Pierrette 
of  black  and  white.  Bobby  had  a  military  cap.  With 
eager  fingers  Ferdinand  William  Otto  opened  his; 
he  had  never  tasted  this  delicious  paper-cap  joy 
before. 

It  was  a  crown,  a  sturdy  bit  of  gold  paper,  cut  into 
points  and  set  with  red  paste  jewels  —  a  gem  of  a 
crown.  He  was  charmed.  He  put  it  on  his  head,  with 
the  unconsciousness  of  childhood,  and  posed  de 
lightedly. 

The  Fraulein  looked  at  Prince  Ferdinand  William 
Otto,  and  slowly  the  color  left  her  lean  face.  She 
stared.  It  was  he,  then,  and  none  other.  Stupid,  not 
to  have  known  at  the  beginning!  He,  the  Crown 
Prince,  here  in  the  home  of  these  barbarous  Ameri 
cans,  when,  by  every  plan  that  had  been  made,  he 
should  now  be  in  the  hands  of  those  who  would  dis 
pose  of  him. 

"I  give  you,"  said  Mr.  Thorpe,  raising  his  glass 
toward  his  wife,  "the  giver  of  the  feast.  Boys,  up 
with  you!" 

It  was  then  that  the  Fraulein,  making  an  excuse, 
slipped  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE  KING  IS  DEAD 

Now  at  last  the  old  King's  hour  had  come.  Mostly 
he  slept,  as  though  his  body,  eager  for  its  long  rest, 
had  already  given  up  the  struggle.  Stimulants, 
given  by  his  devoted  physician,  had  no  effect.  Other 
physicians  there  were,  a  group  of  them,  but  it  was 
Doctor  Weidermanwho  stood  by  the  bed  and  waited. 

Father  Gregory,  his  friend  of  many  years,  had 
come  again  from  Etzel,  and  it  was  he  who  had  ad 
ministered  the  sacrament.  The  King  had  roused 
for  it,  and  had  smiled  at  the  father. 

"So!"  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "you  would 
send  me  clean!  It  is  hard  to  scour  an  old  kettle." 

Doctor  Weiderman  bent  over  the  bed.  "Maj 
esty,"  he  implored,  "if  there  is  anything  we  can  do 
to  make  you  comfortable  — " 

"Give  me  Hubert's  picture,"  said  the  King. 
When  his  fingers  refused  to  hold  it,  Annunciata 
came  forward  swiftly  and  held  it  before  him.  But 
his  heavy  eyes  closed.  With  more  intuition  than 
might  have  been  expected  of  her,  the  Archduchess 
laid  it  on  the  white  coverlet,  and  placed  her  father's 
hand  on  it. 

The  physicians  consulted  in  an  alcove.  Annun 
ciata  went  back  to  her  restless,  noiseless  pacing  of 


448  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

the  room.  Father  Gregory  went  to  a  window,  and 
stared  out.  He  saw,  not  the  silent  crowd  in  the 
Place,  but  many  other  things:  the  King,  as  a  boy, 
chafing  under  the  restraint  of  Court  ceremonial ;  the 
King,  as  a  young  man,  taking  a  wife  who  did  not 
love  him.  He  saw  the  King  madly  in  love  with  his 
wife,  and  turning  to  excesses  to  forget  her.  Then, 
and  for  this  the  old  priest  thanked  the  God  who  was 
so  real  to  him,  he  saw  the  Queen  bear  children,  and 
turning  to  her  husband  because  he  was  their  father. 
They  had  lived  to  love  deeply  and  truly. 

Then  had  come  the  inevitable  griefs.  The  Queen 
had  died,  and  had  been  saved  a  tragedy,  for  Hubert 
had  been  violently  done  to  death.  And  now  again  a 
tragedy  had  come,  but  one  the  King  would  never 
know. 

The  two  Sisters  of  Mercy  stood  beside  the  bed, 
and  looked  down  at  the  quiet  figure. 

"I  should  wish  to  die  so,"  whispered  the  elder. 
"A  long  life,  filled  with  many  deeds,  and  then  to 
sleep  away!" 

"A  long  life,  full  of  many  sorrows!"  observed  the 
younger  one,  her  eyes  full  of  tears.  "He  has  out 
lived  all  that  he  loved." 

"Except  the  little  Otto." 

Their  glances  met,  for  even  here  there  was  a 
question. 

As  if  their  thought  had  penetrated  the  haze  which 
is,  perhaps,  the  mist  that  hides  from  us  the  gates  of 
heaven,  the  old  King  opened  his  eyes. 


THE  KING  IS  DEAD  449 

"Otto!  "he  said.   "I  — wish— " 

Annunciata  bent  over  him.  "He  is  coming, 
father,"  she  told  him,  with  white  lips. 

She  slipped  to  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  and  looked 
up  to  Doctor  Weiderman  with  appealing  eyes. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  whispered.  "Can  you  not  — ?" 

He  shook  his  head.  She  had  asked  a  question  in 
her  glance,  and  he  had  answered.  The  Crown  Prince 
was  gone.  Perhaps  the  search  would  be  successful. 
Could  he  not  be  held,  then,  until  the  boy  was  found? 
And  Doctor  Weiderman  had  answered  "No." 

In  the  antechamber  the  Council  waited,  standing 
and  without  speech.  But  in  an  armchair  beside  the 
door  to  the  King's  room  the  Chancellor  sat,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands.  In  spite  of  precautions,  in  spite 
of  everything,  the  blow  had  fallen.  The  Crown 
Prince,  to  him  at  once  son  and  sovereign,  the  little 
Crown  Prince,  was  gone.  And  his  old  friend,  his 
comrade  of  many  years,  lay  at  his  last  hour. 

Another  regiment  left  the  Palace,  to  break  ranks 
beyond  the  crowd,  and  add  to  the  searchers.  They 
marched  to  a  muffled  drum.  As  the  sound  reached 
him,  the  old  warrior  stirred.  He  had  come  to  this, 
he  who  had  planned,  not  for  himself,  but  for  his 
country.  And  because  he  was  thinking  clearly,  in 
spite  of  his  grief,  he  saw  that  his  very  ambition  for 
the  boy  had  been  his  undoing.  In  the  alliance  with 
Karnia  he  had  given  the  Terrorists  a  scourge  to  flay 
the  people  to  revolt. 

Now  he  waited  for  the  King's  death.    Waited 


450  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

numbly.  For,  with  the  tolling  of  St.  Stefan's  bell 
would  rise  the  cry  for  the  new  King. 

And  there  was  no  King. 

In  the  little  room  where  the  Sisters  kept  their 
medicines,  so  useless  now,  Hedwig  knelt  at  the 
prie-dieu  and  prayed. 

She  tried  to  pray  for  her  grandfather's  soul,  but 
she  could  not.  Her  one  cry  was  for  Otto,  that  he  be 
saved  and  brought  back.  In  the  study  she  had  found 
the  burnt- wood  frame,  and  she  held  it  hugged  close 
to  her  with  its  broken-backed  "F,"  its  tottering 
"W,"  and  wavering  "O,"  with  its  fat  Cupids  in 
sashes,  and  the  places  where  an  over-earnest  small 
hand  had  slipped. 

Hilda  stood  by  the  stand,  and  fingered  the  bottles. 
Her  nose  was  swollen  with  crying,  but  she  was 
stealthily  removing  corks  and  sniffing  at  the  con 
tents  of  the  bottles  with  the  automatic  curiosity 
of  the  young. 

The  King  roused  again.   "Mettlich?"  he  asked. 

The  elder  Sister  tiptoed  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 
The  Council  turned,  dread  on  their  faces.  She  placed 
a  hand  on  the  Chancellor's  shoulder. 

"His  Majesty  has  asked  for  you." 

When  he  looked  up,  dazed,  she  bent  down  and 
took  his  hand. 

"Courage!"  she  said  quietly. 

The  Chancellor  stood  a  second  inside  the  door. 
Then  he  went  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  knelt,  his 
lips  to  the  cold,  white  hand  on  the  counterpane. 


THE  KING   IS  DEAD  451 

"Sire!"  he  choked.   "It  is  I  —  Mettlich." 

The  King  looked  at  him,  and  placed  his  hand  on 
the  bowed  gray  head.  Then  his  eyes  turned  to  An- 
nunciata  and  rested  there.  It  was  as  if  he  saw  her, 
not  as  the  embittered  woman  of  late  years,  but  as  the 
child  of  the  woman  he  had  loved. 

"A  good  friend,  and  a  good  daughter,"  he  said 
clearly.  "Few  men  die  so  fortunate,  and  fewer 
sovereigns."  His  hand  moved  from  Mettlich's  head, 
and  rested  on  the  photograph. 

The  elder  Sister  leaned  forward  and  touched  his 
wrist.  "Doctor!"  she  said  sharply. 

Doctor  Weiderman  came  first,  the  others  follow 
ing.  They  grouped  around  the  bed.  Then  the  oldest 
of  them,  who  had  brought  Annunciata  into  the 
world,  touched  her  on  the  shoulder. 

"Madame!"  he  said.  "Madame,  I  —  His  Maj 
esty  has  passed  away." 

Mettlich  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  took  a  long 
look  at  the  face  of  his  old  sovereign  and  king. 

In  the  mean  time,  things  had  been  happening  in 
the  room  where  the  Council  waited.  The  Council, 
free  of  the  restraint  of  the  Chancellor's  presence,  had 
fallen  into  low-voiced  consultation.  What  was  to  be 
done?  They  knew  already  the  rumors  of  the  streets, 
and  were  helpless  before  them.  They  had  done  what 
they  could.  But  the  boy  was  gone,  and  the  city  ris 
ing.  Already  the  garrison  of  the  fortress  had  been 
ordered  to  the  Palace,  but  it  could  not  arrive  before 
midnight.  Friese  had  questioned  the  wisdom  of  it, 


452  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

at  that,  and  was  for  flight  as  soon  as  the  King  died. 
Bayerl,  on  the  other  hand,  urged  a  stand,  in  the  hope 
that  the  Crown  Prince  would  be  found. 

Their  voices,  lowered  at  first,  rose  acrimoniously ; 
almost  they  penetrated  to  the  silent  room  beyond. 
On  to  the  discussion  came  Nikky  Larisch,  covered 
with  dust  and  spotted  with  froth  from  his  horse.  He 
entered  without  ceremony,  his  boyish  face  drawn 
and  white,  his  cap  gone,  his  eyes  staring. 

"The  Chancellor  ?"  he  said. 

Some  one  pointed  to  the  room  beyond. 

Nikky  hesitated.  Then,  being  young  and  dra 
matic,  even  in  tragedy,  he  unbuckled  his  sword-belt 
and  took  it  off,  placing  it  on  a  table. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  to  surrender 
myself." 

The  Council  stared. 

"For  what  reason?"  demanded  Marschall  coldly. 

"  I  believe  it  is  called  high  treason."  He  closed  his 
eyes  for  a  moment.  "  It  is  because  of  my  negligence 
that  this  thing  has  happened.  He  was  in  my  charge, 
and  I  left  him." 

No  one  said  anything.  The  Council  looked  at  a 
loss,  rather  like  a  flock  of  sheep  confronting  some 
strange  animal. 

"I  would  have  shot  myself,"  said  Nikky  Larisch, 
"but  it  was  too  easy." 

Then,  rather  at  a  loss  as  to  the  exact  etiquette  of 
arresting  one's  self,  he  bowed  slightly  and  waited. 

The  door  into  the  King's  bedchamber  opened. 


THE  KING  IS  DEAD  453 

The  Chancellor  came  through,  his  face  working.   It 
closed  behind  him. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  Council,"  he  said.  "It  is  my 
duty  —  my  duty  —  to  announce — "  His  voice 
broke ;  his  grizzled  chin  quivered ;  tears  rolled  down 
his  cheeks.  "Friends,"  he  said  pitifully,  "our  good 
King  —  my  old  comrade  —  is  dead ! " 

The  birthday  supper  was  over.  It  had  ended 
with  an  American  ice-cream,  brought  in  carefully 
by  Pepy,  because  of  its  expensiveness.  They  had  cut 
the  cake  with  "Boby"  on  the  top,  and  the  Crown 
Prince  had  eaten  far  more  than  was  good  for  him. 

He  sat,  fingering  the  Lincoln  penny  and  feeling 
extremely  full  and  very  contented. 

Then,  suddenly,  from  a  far-off  church  a  deep- 
toned  bell  began  to  toll  slowly. 

Prince  Ferdinand  William  Otto  caught  it.  St. 
Stefan's  bell!  He  sat  up  and  listened.  The  sound 
was  faint;  one  felt  it  rather  than  heard  it,  but  the 
slow  booming  was  unmistakable.  He  got  up  and 
pushed  his  chair  back. 

Other  bells  had  taken  it  up,  and  now  the  whole 
city  seemed  alive  with  bells  —  bells  that  swung 
sadly  from  side  to  side,  as  if  they  said  over  and  over: 
"Alas,  alas!" 

Something  like  panic  seized  Ferdinand  William 
Otto.  Some  calamity  had  happened.  Some  one  was 
—  perhaps  his  grandfather. 

He  turned  an  appealing  face  to  Mrs.  Thorpe.   "I 


454  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

must  go,"  he  said.  "I  do  not  wish  to  appear  rude, 
but  something  is  wrong.  The  bells  — " 

Pepy  had  been  listening,  too.  Her  broad  face 
worked.  "They  mean  but  one  thing,"  she  said 
slowly.  "I  have  heard  it  said  many  times.  When 
St.  Stefan's  tolls  like  that,  the  King  is  dead!" 

"No!  No!"  cried  Ferdinand  William  Otto  and 
ran  madly  out  of  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

WHILE  the  birthday  supper  was  at  its  height,  in  the 
bureau  of  the  concierge  sat  old  Adelbert,  heavy  and 
despairing.  That  very  day  had  he  learned  to  what 
use  the  Committee  would  put  the  information  he 
had  given  them,  and  his  old  heart  was  dead  within 
him.  One  may  not  be  loyal  for  seventy  years,  and 
then  easily  become  a  traitor. 

He  had  surveyed  stonily  the  costume  in  which  the 
little  Prince  was  to  be  taken  away.  He  had  watched 
while  the  boxes  of  ammunition  were  uncovered  in 
their  barrels,  he  had  seen  the  cobbler's  shop  become 
a  seething  hive  of  activity,  where  all  day  men  had 
come  and  gone.  He  had  heard  the  press  beneath  his 
feet  fall  silent  because  its  work  was  done,  and  at 
dusk  he  had  with  his  own  eyes  beheld  men  who 
carried  forth,  under  their  arms,  blazing  placards 
for  the  walls  of  the  town. 

Then,  at  seven  o'clock,  something  had  happened. 

The  concierge's  niece  had  gone,  leaving  the  supper 
ready  cooked  on  the  back  of  the  stove.  Old  Adelbert 
sat  alone,  and  watched  the  red  bars  of  the  stove  fade 
to  black.  By  that  time  it  was  done,  and  he  was  of  the 
damned.  The  Crown  Prince,  who  was  of  an  age 
with  the  American  lad  upstairs,  the  Crown  Prince 


456  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

was  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  He,  old  Adelbert, 
had  done  it. 

And  now  it  was  forever  too  late.  Terrible  thoughts 
filled  his  mind.  He  could  not  live  thus,  yet  he  could 
not  die.  The  daughter  must  have  the  pension.  He 
must  live,  a  traitor,  he  on  whose  breast  the  King 
himself  had  pinned  a  decoration. 

He  wore  his  new  uniform,  in  honor  of  the  day. 
Suddenly  he  felt  that  he  could  not  wear  it  any  longer. 
He  had  no  right  to  any  uniform.  He  who  had  sold 
his  country  was  of  no  country. 

He  went  slowly  out  and  up  the  staircase,  dragging 
his  wooden  leg  painfully  from  step  to  step.  He  heard 
the  concierge  come  in  below,  his  heavy  footsteps 
reechoed  through  the  building.  Inside  the  door  he 
called  furiously  to  his  niece.  Old  Adelbert  heard 
him  strike  a  match  to  light  the  gas. 

On  the  staircase  he  met  the  Fraulein  hurrying 
down.  Her  face  was  strained  and  her  eyes  glittering. 
She  hesitated,  as  though  she  would  speak,  then  she 
went  on  past  him.  He  could  hear  her  running.  It 
reminded  the  old  man  of  that  day  in  the  Opera, 
when  a  child  ran  down  the  staircase,  and,  as  is  the 
way  of  the  old,  he  repeated  himself:  "One  would 
think  new  legs  grew  in  place  of  old  ones,  like  the 
claws  of  sea-creatures,"  he  said  fretfully.  And  went 
on  up  the  staircase. 

In  his  room  he  sat  down  on  a  straight  chair  inside 
the  door,  and  stared  ahead.  Then,  slowly  and  me 
chanically,  he  took  off  his  new  uniform  and  donned 


LONG  LIVE  THE  KING!  457 

the  old  one.  He  would  have  put  on  civilian  clothes, 
had  he  possessed  any.  For  by  the  deeds  of  that  day 
he  had  forfeited  the  right  to  the  King's  garb. 

It  was  there  that  Black  Humbert,  hurrying  up, 
found  him.  The  concierge  was  livid,  his  massive 
frame  shook  with  excitement. 

"Quick!"  he  said,  and  swore  a  great  oath.  "To 
the  shop  of  the  cobbler  Heinz,  and  tell  him  this 
word.  Here  in  the  building  is  the  boy." 

"What  boy?" 

The  concierge  closed  a  great  hand  on  the  veteran's 
shoulder.  "Who  but  the  Crown  Prince  himself!"  he 
said. 

"But  I  thought  —  how  can  he  be  here?" 

"Here  is  he,  in  our  very  hands.  It  is  no  time  to 
ask  questions." 

"If  he  is  here— " 

"He  is  with  the  Americans,"  hissed  the  concierge, 
the  veins  on  his  forehead  swollen  with  excitement. 
"Now,  go,  and  quickly.  I  shall  watch.  Say  that 
when  I  have  secured  the  lad,  I  shall  take  him  there. 
Let  all  be  ready.  An  hour  ago,"  he  said,  raising  his 
great  fists  on  high,  "and  everything  lost.  Now  — 
hurry,  old  wooden  leg.  It  is  a  great  night." 

"  But  —  I  cannot.  Already  I  have  done  too  much. 
I  am  damned.  I  have  lost  my  soul.  I  who  am  soon 
to  die— " 

"  You  will  go." 

And,  at  last,  he  went,  hobbling  down  the  staircase 
recklessly,  because  the  looming  figure  at  the  stair- 


458  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

head  was  listening.  He  reached  the  street.  There, 
only  a  block  away,  was  the  cobbler's  shop,  lighted, 
but  with  the  dirty  curtains  drawn  across  the  window. 

Old  Adelbert  gazed  at  it.  Then  he  commended 
his  souUto  God,  and  turned  toward  the  Palace. 

He  passed  the  Opera.  On  Carnival  night  it  should 
have  been  open  and  in  gala  array,  with  lines  of  car 
riages  and  machines  before  it.  It  was  closed,  and 
dreary.  But  old  Adelbert  saw  it  not  at  all.  He 
stumped  along,  panting  with  haste  and  exhaustion, 
to  do  the  thing  he  had  set  himself  to  do. 

Here  was  the  Palace.  Before  it  were  packed  dense 
throngs  of  silent  people.  Now  and  then  a  man  put 
down  a  box,  and  rising  on  it,  addressed  the  crowd, 
attempting  to  rouse  them.  Each  time  angry  hands 
pulled  him  down,  and  hisses  greeted  him  as  he  slunk 
away. 

Had  old  Adelbert  been  alive  to  anything  but  his 
mission,  he  would  have  seen  that  this  was  no  mob  of 
revolutionists,  but  a  throng  of  grieving  people, 
awaiting  the  great  bell  of  St.  Stefan's  with  its  dire 
news. 

Then,  above  their  heads,  it  rang  out,  slow,  omi 
nous,  terrible.  A  sob  ran  through  the  crowd.  In 
groups,  and  at  last  as  a  whole,  the  throng  knelt. 
Men  uncovered  and  women  wept. 

The  bell  rang  on.  At  its  first  notes  old  Adelbert 
stopped,  staggered,  almost  fell.  Then  he  uncovered 
his  head. 

"Gone!  "he  said.  "The  old  King!  My  old  King!" 


LONG  LIVE  THE  KING!  459 

His  face  twitched.  But  the  horror  behind  him 
drove  him  on  through  the  kneeling  crowd.  Where 
it  refused  to  yield,  he  drove  the  iron  point  of  his 
wooden  leg  into  yielding  flesh,  and  so  made  his  way. 

Here,  in  the  throng,  Olga  of  the  garderobe  met 
him,  and  laid  a  trembling  hand  on  his  arm.  He 
shook  her  off,  but  she  clung  to  him. 

"Know  you  what  they  are  saying?"  she  whis 
pered.  "That  the  Crown  Prince  is  stolen.  And  it  is 
true.  Soldiers  scour  the  city  everywhere." 

"Let  me  go,"  said  old  Adelbert,  fiercely. 

"They  say,"  she  persisted,  "that  the  Chancellor 
has  made  away  with  him,  to  sell  us  to  Karnia." 

"Fools!"  cried  old  Adelbert,  and  pushed  her  off. 
When  she  refused  to  release  him,  he  planted  his  iron 
toe  on  her  shapely  one  and  worked  his  way  forward. 
The  crowd  had  risen,  and  now  stood  expectantly 
facing  the  Palace.  Some  one  raised  a  cry  and  others 
took  it  up. 

"The  King!"  they  cried.  "Show  us  the  little 
King!" 

But  the  balcony  outside  the  dead  King's  apart 
ments  remained  empty.  The  curtains  at  the  long 
windows  were  drawn,  save  at  one,  opened  for  air. 
The  breeze  shook  its  curtains  to  and  fro,  but  no 
small,  childish  figure  emerged.  The  cries  kept  up, 
but  there  was  a  snarl  in  the  note  now. 

"The  King!   Long  live  the  King!   Where  is  he?" 

A  man  in  a  red  costume,  near  old  Adelbert,  leaped 
on  a  box  and  lighted  a  flaming  torch.  "Aye!"  he 


460  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

yelled,  "call  for  the  little  King.  Where  is  he?  What 
have  they  done  with  him?" 

Old  Adelbert  pushed  on.  The  voice  of  the  revolu 
tionist  died  behind  him,  in  a  chorus  of  fury.  From 
nowhere,  apparently,  came  lighted  box-banners 
proclaiming  the  Chancellor's  treason,  and  demand 
ing  a  Republic.  Some  of  them  instructed  the  peo 
ple  to  gather  around  the  Parliament,  where,  it  was 
stated,  leading  citizens  were  already  forming  a  Re 
public.  Some,  more  violent,  suggested  an  advance 
on  the  Palace. 

The  crowd  at  first  ignored  them,  but  as  time  went 
on,  it  grew  ugly.  By  all  precedent,  the  new  King 
should  be  now  before  them.  What,  then,  if  this 
rumor  was  true?  Where  was  the  little  King? 

Revolution,  now,  in  the  making.  A  flame  ready 
to  blaze.  Hastily,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  throng,  a 
delegation  formed  to  visit  the  Palace,  and  learn  the 
truth.  Orderly  citizens  these,  braving  the  terror  of 
that  forbidding  and  guarded  pile  in  the  interests  of 
the  land  they  loved. 

Drums  were  now  beating  steadily,  filling  the  air 
with  their  throbbing,  almost  drowning  out  the  sol 
emn  tolling  of  the  bell.  Around  them  were  rallying 
angry  groups.  As  the  groups  grew  large,  each  drum 
led  its  followers  toward  the  Government  House, 
where,  on  the  steps,  the  revolutionary  party  ha 
rangued  the  crowd.  Bonfires  sprang  up,  built  of  no 
one  knew  what,  in  the  public  squares.  Red  fire 
burned.  The  drums  throbbed. 


LONG  LIVE  THE  KING!  461 

The  city  had  not  yet  risen.  It  was  large  and  slow 
to  move.  Slow,  too,  to  believe  in  treason,  or  that  it 
had  no  king.  But  it  was  a  matter  of  moments  now, 
not  of  hours. 

The  noise  penetrated  into  the  very  wards  of  the 
hospital.  Red  fires  bathed  pale  faces  on  their  pillows 
in  a  feverish  glow.  Nurses  gathered  at  the  windows, 
their  uniforms  and  faces  alike  scarlet  in  the  glare, 
and  whispered  together. 

One  such  group  gathered  near  the  bedside  of  the 
student  Haeckel,  still  in  his  lethargy.  His  body  had 
gained  strength,  so  that  he  was  clothed  at  times,  to 
wander  aimlessly  about  the  ward.  But  he  had  re 
mained  dazed.  Now  and  then  the  curtain  of  the 
past  lifted,  but  for  a  moment  only.  He  had  forgotten 
his  name.  He  spent  long  hours  struggling  to  pierce 
the  mist. 

But  mostly  he  lay,  or  sat,  as  now,  beside  his  bed, 
a  bandage  still  on  his  head,  clad  in  shirt  and  trousers, 
bare  feet  thrust  into  worn  hospital  slippers.  The  red 
glare  had  not  roused  him,  nor  yet  the  beat  of  the 
drums.  But  a  word  or  two  that  one  of  the  nurses 
spoke  caught  his  ear  and  held  him.  He  looked  up, 
and  slowly  rose  to  his  feet.  Unsteadily  he  made  his 
way  to  a  window,  holding  to  the  sill  to  steady  him 
self. 

Old  Adelbert  had  been  working  his  way  impa 
tiently.  The  temper  of  the  mob  was  growing  ugly. 
It  was  suspicious,  frightened,  potentially  dangerous. 


462  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

The  cry  of  "To  the  Palace!"  greeted  his  ears  as  he 
finally  emerged  breathless  from  the  throng. 

He  stepped  boldly  to  the  old  stone  archway,  and 
faced  a  line  of  soldiers  there.  "I  would  see  the 
Chancellor!"  he  gasped,  and  saluted. 

The  captain  of  the  guard  stepped  out.  "What  is 
it  you  want?"  he  demanded. 

"The  Chancellor,"  he  lowered  his  voice.  "I  have 
news  of  the  Crown  Prince." 

Magic  words,  indeed.  Doors  opened  swiftly  be 
fore  them.  But  time  was  flying,  too.  In  his  confu 
sion  the  old  man  had  only  one  thought,  to  reach  the 
Chancellor.  It  would  have  been  better  to  have  told 
his  news  at  once.  The  climbing  of  stairs  takes  time 
when  one  is  old  and  fatigued,  and  has  but  one  leg. 

However,  at  last  it  was  done.  Past  a  room  where 
sat  Nikky  Larisch,  swordless  and  self-convicted  of 
treason,  past  a  great  salon  where  a  terrified  Court 
waited,  and  waiting,  listened  to  the  cries  outside, 
the  beating  of  many  drums,  the  sound  of  multitu 
dinous  feet,  old  Adelbert  stumped  to  the  door  of 
the  room  where  the  Council  sat  debating  and  the 
Chancellor  paced  the  floor. 

Small  ceremony  now.  Led  by  soldiers,  who  re 
tired  and  left  him  to  enter  alone,  old  Adelbert 
stumbled  into  the  room.  He  was  out  of  breath  and 
dizzy;  his  heart  beat  to  suffocation.  There  was  not 
air  enough  in  all  the  world  to  breathe.  He  clutched 
at  the  velvet  hangings  of  the  door,  and  swayed,  but 
he  saw  the  Chancellor. 


LONG  LIVE  THE  KING!  463 

"The  Crown  Prince,"  he  said  thickly,  "is  at  the 
home  of  the  Americans."  He  stared  about  him. 
Strange  that  the  room  should  suddenly  be  filled 
with  a  mist.  "But  there  be  those  —  who  wait  — 
there  —  to  capture  him." 

He  caught  desperately  at  the  curtains,  with  their 
royal  arms  embroidered  in  blue  and  gold.  Shameful, 
in  such  company,  to  stagger  so! 

"Make  —  haste,"  he  said,  and  slid  stiffly  to  the 
ground.  He  lay  without  moving. 

The  Council  roused  then.  Mettlich  was  the  first 
to  get  to  him.  But  it  was  too  late. 

Old  Adelbert  had  followed  the  mist  to  the  gates  it 
concealed.  More  than  that,  sham  traitor  that  he 
was,  he  had  followed  his  King. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

IN  THE  ROAD  OF  THE  GOOD  CHILDREN 

HAECKEL  crept  to  a  window  and  looked  out.  Bon 
fires  were  springing  up  in  the  open  square  in  front  of 
the  Government  House.  Mixed  with  the  red  glare 
came  leaping  yellow  flames.  The  wooden  benches 
were  piled  together  and  fired,  and  by  each  such  pyre 
stood  a  gesticulating,  shouting  red  demon. 

Guns  were  appearing  now.  Wagons  loaded  with 
them  drove  into  the  Square,  to  be  surrounded  by  a 
howling  mob.  The  percentage  of  sober  citizens  was 
growing  —  sober  citizens  no  longer.  For  the  little 
King  had  not  been  shown  to  them.  Obviously  he 
could  not  be  shown  to  them.  Therefore  rumor  was 
right,  and  the  boy  was  gone. 

Against  the  Palace,  therefore,  their  rage  was 
turned.  The  shouts  for  the  little  King  turned  to 
threats.  The  Archbishop  had  come  out  on  the  bal 
cony  accompanied  by  Father  Gregory.  The  Arch 
bishop  had  raised  his  hands,  but  had  not  obtained 
silence.  Instead,  to  his  horror  and  dismay,  a  few 
stones  had  been  thrown. 

He  retired,  breathing  hard.  But  Father  Gregory 
had  remained,  facing  the  crowd  fearlessly,  his  arms 
not  raised  in  benediction,  but  folded  across  his 


IN  THE  ROAD  OF  THE  GOOD  CHILDREN    465 

chest.  Stones  rattled  about  him,  but  he  did  not 
flinch,  and  at  last  he  gained  the  ears  of  the  crowd. 
His  great  voice,  stern  and  fearless,  held  them. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "there  is  work  to  be  done, 
and  you  lose  time.  We  cannot  show  you  the  King, 
because  he  is  not  here.  While  you  stand  there 
shrieking,  his  enemies  have  their  will  of  him.  The 
little  King  has  been  stolen  from  the  Palace." 

He  might  have  swayed  them,  even  then.  He  tried 
to  move  them  to  a  search  of  the  city.  But  a  pallid 
man,  sweating  with  excitement,  climbed  on  the 
shoulders  of  two  companions,  and  faced  the  crowd. 

"Aye,  he  is  stolen,"  he  cried.  "But  who  stole 
him?  Not  the  city.  We  are  loyal.  Ask  the  Palace 
where  he  is.  Ask  those  who  have  allied  themselves 
with  Karnia.  Ask  Mettlich." 

There  was  more,  of  course.  The  cries  of  "To  the 
Palace!"  increased.  Those  behind  pushed  forward, 
shoving  the  ones  ahead  toward  the  archway,  where 
a  line  of  soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets  stood  waiting. 

The  Archduchess  and  Hilda  with  a  handful  of 
women,  had  fled  to  the  roof,  and  from  there  saw  the 
advance  of  the  mob.  Hedwig  had  haughtily  refused 
to  go. 

It  had  seemed  to  Hedwig  that  life  itself  was  over. 
She  did  not  care  very  much.  When  the  Archbishop 
had  been  driven  back  from  the  balcony,  she  foresaw 
the  end.  She  knew  of  Nikky's  treason  now,  knew  it 
in  all  its  bitterness,  but  not  all  its  truth.  And,  be 
cause  she  had  loved  him,  although  she  told  herself 


466  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

her  love  was  dead,  she  sought  him  out  in  the  room 
where  he  sat  and  waited. 

She  was  there  when  old  Adelbert  had  brought  his 
news  and  had  fallen,  before  he  could  finish. 

Nikky  had  risen,  and  looked  at  her,  rather  stonily. 
Then  had  followed  such  a  scene  as  leaves  scars, 
Hedwig  blaming  him  and  forgiving  him,  and  then 
breaking  down  and  begging  him  to  flight.  And 
Nikky,  with  the  din  of  the  Place  in  his  ears,  and  for 
bidden  to  confront  the  mob,  listening  patiently  and 
shaking  his  head.  How  little  she  knew  him,  after  all, 
to  think  that  he  would  even  try  to  save  himself.  He 
had  earned  death.  Let  it  come. 

He  was  not  very  clear  himself  as  to  how  it  hap 
pened.  He  had  been  tricked.  But  that  was  no  ex 
cuse.  And  in  the  midst  of  her  appeal  to  him  to  save 
himself,  he  broke  in  to  ask  where  Olga  Loschek  was. 

Hedwig  drew  herself  up.  "I  do  not  know,"  she 
said,  rather  coldly. 

"But  after  all,"  Nikky  muttered,  thinking  of  the 
lady-in-waiting,  "escape  is  cut  off.  The  Palace  is 
surrounded." 

For  a  moment  Hedwig  thought  she  had  won.  "  It 
is  not  cut  off,"  she  said.  And  spoke  of  the  turret 
door,  and  whither  it  led.  All  at  once  he  saw  it  all. 
He  looked  at  her  with  eyes  that  dilated  with  excite 
ment,  and  then  to  her  anger,  shot  by  her  and  to  the 
room  where  the  Council  waited.  He  was  just  in  time 
to  hear  old  Adelbert's  broken  speech,  and  to  see  him 
reel  and  fall. 


IN  THE  ROAD  OF  THE  GOOD  CHILDREN    467 

At  the  hospital,  Haeckel,  the  student,  stood  by 
his  window,  and  little  by  little  the  veil  lifted.  His 
slow  blood  stirred  first.  The  beating  of  drums,  the 
shrieks  of  the  crowd,  the  fires,  all  played  their  part. 
Another  patient  joined  him,  and  together  they 
looked  out. 

"Bad  work!"  said  the  other  man. 

"Aye!"  said  Haeckel.  Then,  speaking  very 
slowly,  and  with  difficulty,  "I  do  not  understand." 

"The  King  is  dead."  The  man  watched  him. 
He  had  been  of  interest  to  the  ward. 

"Aye,"  observed  Haeckel,  still  uncomprehend 
ing.  And  then,  "Dead  —  the  King?" 

"Dead.   Hear  the  bell." 

"Then — "  But  he  could  not  at  once  formulate 
the  thought  in  his  mind.  Speech  came  hard.  He 
was  still  in  a  cloud. 

''They  say,"  said  the  other  man,  "that  the  Crown 
Prince  is  missing,  that  he  has  been  stolen.  The 
people  are  frenzied." 

He  went  on,  dilating  on  the  rumors.  Still  Haeckel 
labored.  The  King!  The  Crown  Prince!  There  was 
something  that  he  was  to  do.  It  was  just  beyond 
him,  but  he  could  not  remember.  Then,  by  accident, 
the  other  man  touched  the  hidden  spring  of  his 
memory. 

"There  are  some  who  think  that  Mettlich  — " 

"Mettlich!"  That  was  the  word.  With  it  the 
curtain  split,  as  it  were,  the  cloud  was  gone.  Haeckel 
put  a  hand  to  his  head. 


468  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

A  few  minutes  later,  a  strange  figure  dashed  out  of 
the  hospital.  The  night  watchman  had  joined  the 
mob,  and  was  at  that  moment  selecting  a  rifle  from 
a  cart.  Around  the  cart  were  students,  still  in  their 
Carnival  finery,  wearing  the  colors  of  his  own  corps. 
Haeckel,  desperate  of  eye,  pallid  and  gaunt,  clad 
still  in  his  hospital  shirt  and  trousers,  Haeckel 
climbed  on  to  the  wagon,  and  mounted  to  the  seat, 
a  strange,  swaying  figure,  with  a  bandage  on  his 
head.  In  spite  of  that,  there  were  some  who  knew 
him. 

"Haeckel!"  they  cried.  The  word  spread.  The 
crowd  of  students  pressed  close. 

"What  would  you  do?"  he  cried  to  them.  "You 
know  me.  You  see  me  now.  I  have  been  done  al 
most  to  death  by  those  you  would  aid.  Aye,  arm 
yourselves,  but  not  against  your  King.  We  have 
sworn  to  stand  together.  I  call  on  you,  men  of  my 
corps,  to  follow  me.  There  are  those  who  to-night 
will  murder  the  little  King  and  put  King  Mob  on 
the  throne.  And  they  be  those  who  have  tortured 
me.  Look  at  me!  This  they  have  done  to  me."  He 
tore  the  bandage  off,  and  showed  his  scarred  head. 
"Quick!"  he  cried.  "  I  know  where  they  hide,  these 
spawn  of  hell.  Who  will  follow  me?  To  the  King!" 

"To  the  King!" 

They  took  up  the  cry,  a  few  at  first,  then  all  of 
them.  More  than  his  words,  the  gaunt  and  wounded 
figure  of  Haeckel  in  the  cart  fought  for  him.  He 
reeled  before  them.  Two  leaped  up  and  steadied 


IN  THE  ROAD  OF  THE  GOOD  CHILDREN    469 

him,  finally,  indeed,  took  him  on  their  shoulders,  and 
led  the  way.  They  made  a  wedge  of  men,  and 
pushed  through  the  mob. 

"To  the  little  King! "  was  the  cry  they  raised,  and 
ran,  a  flying  wedge  of  white,  fantastic  figures.  Those 
who  were  unarmed  seized  weapons  from  the  crowd 
as  they  passed.  Urged  by  Haeckel,  they  ran  through 
the  streets. 

Haeckel  knew.  It  was  because  he  had  known  that 
they  had  done  away  with  him.  His  mind,  working 
now  with  almost  unnatural  activity,  flew  ahead  to 
the  house  in  the  Road  of  the  Good  Children,  and  to 
what  might  be  enacting  there.  His  eyes  burned. 
Now  at  last  he  would  thwart  them,  unless  — 

Just  before  they  turned  into  the  street,  a  horse 
man  had  dashed  out  of  it  and  flung  himself  out  of 
the  saddle.  The  door  was  bolted,  but  it  opened  to 
his  ring,  and  Nikky  faced  the  concierge,  Nikky,  with 
a  drawn  revolver  in  his  hand,  and  a  face  deathly 
white. 

He  had  had  no  time  to  fire,  no  time  even  to  speak. 
The  revolver  flew  out  of  his  hand  at  one  blow  from 
the  flail-like  arms  of  the  concierge.  Behind  him  some 
where  was  coming,  Nikky  knew,  a  detachment  of 
cavalry.  But  he  had  outdistanced  them,  riding 
frenziedly,  had  leaped  hedges  and  ditches  across  the 
Park.  He  must  hold  this  man  until  they  came. 

Struggling  in  the  grasp  of  the  concierge,  he  yet 
listened  for  them.  From  the  first  he  knew  it  was  a 
losing  battle.  He  had  lost  before.  But  he  fought 


470  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

fiercely,  with  the  strength  of  a  dozen.  His  frenzy 
was  equaled  by  that  of  the  other  man,  and  his  weight 
was  less  by  a  half.  He  went  down  finally  and  lay 
still,  a  battered,  twisted  figure, 

The  cavalry,  in  the  mean  time,  had  lost  the  way, 
was  riding  its  foam-flecked  horses  along  another 
street,  and  losing  time  when  every  second  counted. 

But  Black  Humbert,  breathing  hard,  had  heard 
sounds  in  the  street,  and  put  up  the  chain.  He  stood 
at  bay,  a  huge,  shaken  figure  at  the  foot  of  the  stone 
staircase.  He  was  for  flight  now.  But  surely  —  out 
side  at  the  door  some  one  gave  the  secret  knock  of 
the  tribunal,  and  followed  it  by  the  pass-word.  He 
breathed  again.  Friends,  of  course,  come  for  the 
ammunition.  But,  to  be  certain,  he  went  to  the  win 
dow  of  his  bureau,  and  looked  out  through  the  bars. 
Students ! 

"Coming!"  he  called.  And  kicked  at  Nikky's 
quiet  figure  as  he  passed  it.  Then  he  unbolted  the 
door,  dropped  the  chain,  and  opened  the  door. 

Standing  before  him,  backed  by  a  great  crowd  of 
fantastic  figures,  was  Haeckel. 

They  did  not  kill  him  at  once.  At  the  points  of  a 
dozen  bayonets,  intended  for  vastly  different  work, 
they  forced  him  up  the  staircase,  flight  after  flight. 
At  first  he  cried  pitifully  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
royal  child,  then  he  tried  to  barter  what  he  knew  for 
his  life.  They  jeered  at  him,  pricked  him  shamefully 
from  behind  with  daggers. 

At  the  top  of  the  last  flight  he  turned  and  faced 


IN  THE  ROAD  OF  THE  GOOD  CHILDREN    471 

them.  "Gentlemen,  friends!"  he  implored.  "I  have 
done  him  no  harm.  It  was  never  in  my  mind  to  do 
him  an  injury.  I  - 

"He  is  in  the  room  where  you  kept  me?"  asked 
Haeckel,  in  a  low  voice. 

"He  is  there,  and  safe." 

Then  Haeckel  killed  him.  He  struck  him  with  a 
dagger,  and  his  great  body  fell  on  the  stairs.  He  was 
still  moving  and  groaning,  as  they  swarmed  over 
him. 

Haeckel  faced  the  crowd.  "There  are  others,"  he 
said.  "  I  know  them  all.  When  we  have  finished  here, 
we  will  go  on." 

They  were  fearful  of  frightening  the  little  King, 
and  only  two  went  back,  with  the  key  that  Haeckel 
had  taken  from  the  body  of  Black  Humbert.  They 
unlocked  the  door  of  the  back  room,  to  find  His 
Majesty  sitting  on  a  chair,  with  a  rather  moist  hand 
kerchief  in  his  hand.  He  was  not  at  all  frightened, 
however,  and  was  weeping  for  his  grandfather. 

"Has  the  carriage  come?"  he  demanded.  "I  am 
waiting  for  a  carriage." 

They  assured  him  that  a  carriage  was  on  the  way, 
and  were  very  much  at  a  loss. 

"I  would  like  to  go  quickly,"  he  said.  "I  am 
afraid  —  my  grandfather  —  Nikky ! " 

For  there  stood  Nikky  in  the  doorway,  a  stagger 
ing,  white-lipped  Nikky.  He  was  not  too  weak  to 
pick  the  child  up,  however,  and  carry  him  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs.  They  had  moved  the  body  of  the 


472  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

concierge,  by  his  order.  So  he  stood  there,  the  boy  in 
his  arms,  and  the  students,  only  an  hour  before  in 
revolt  against  him,  cheered  mightily. 

They  met  the  detachment  of  cavalry  at  the  door, 
and  thus,  in  state,  rode  back  to  the  Palace  where  he 
was  to  rule,  King  Otto  the  Ninth.  A  very  sad  little 
King,  for  Nikky  had  answered  his  question  honestly. 
A  King  who  mopped  his  eyes  with  a  very  dirty 
handkerchief.  A  weary  little  King,  too,  with  already 
a  touch  of  indigestion! 

Behind  them,  in  the  house  on  the  Road  of  the 
Good  Children,  Haeckel,  in  an  access  of  fury,  or 
dered  the  body  of  the  concierge  flung  from  a  window. 
It  lay  below,  a  twisted  and  shapeless  thing,  beside 
the  pieces  of  old  Adelbert's  broken  sword. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

THE  LINCOLN   PENNY 

AND  so,  at  last,  King  Otto  the  Ninth  reached  his 
Palace,  and  was  hurried  up  the  stairs  to  the  room 
where  the  Council  waited.  Not  at  all  a  royal  figure, 
but  a  tired  little  boy  in  gray  trousers,  a  short  black 
Eton  coat,  and  a  rolling  collar  which  had  once  been 
white. 

He  gave  one  glance  around  the  room.  "My 
grandfather!"  he  said.  And  fell  to  crying  into  his 
dirty  pocket-handkerchief. 

The  Chancellor  eyed  grimly  from  under  his 
shaggy  brows  the  disreputable  figure  of  his  sover 
eign.  Then  he  went  toward  him,  and  put  his  hand 
on  his  head. 

"He  was  very  eager  for  this  rest,  Otto,"  he  said. 

Then  he  knelt,  and  very  solemnly  and  with  in 
finite  tenderness,  he  kissed  the  small,  not  overclean, 
hand. 

One  by  one  the  Council  did  the  same  thing. 

King  Otto  straightened  his  shoulders  and  put 
away  the  handkerchief.  It  had  occurred  to  him  that 
he  was  a  man  now  and  must  act  a  man's  part  in  the 
world. 

"May  I  see  him?"  he  asked.  "I  — didn't  see 
him  before." 


474  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  I 

'  Your  people  are  waiting,  sire/'  the  Chancellor 
said  gravely.  "Toa  ruler,  his  people  must  come  first." 

And  so,  in  the  clear  light  from  the  room  behind 
him,  Otto  the  Ninth  first  stood  before  his  people. 
They  looked  up,  and  hard  eyes  grew  soft,  tense 
muscles  relaxed.  They  saw  the  erectness  of  the 
small  figure,  the  steadiness  of  the  blue  eyes  that  had 
fought  back  their  tears,  the  honesty  and  fire  and 
courage  of  this  small  boy  who  was  their  King. 

Let  such  of  the  revolutionists  as  remained  scream 
before  the  Parliament  House.  Let  the  flames  burn 
and  the  drums  beat.  The  solid  citizens,  the  great 
mass  of  the  people,  looked  up  at  the  King  and 
cheered  mightily.  Revolution  had  that  night  re 
ceived  its  death-blow,  at  the  hands  of  a  child.  The 
mob  prepared  to  go  home  to  bed. 

While  King  Otto  stood  on  the  balcony,  down  be 
low  in  the  crowd  an  American  woman  looked  up, 
and  suddenly  caught  her  husband  by  the  arm. 

"Robert,"  she  said,  "Robert,  it  is  Bobby's  little 
friend!" 

"Nonsense!"  he  retorted.  "It's  rather  dramatic, 
isn't  it?  Nothing  like  this  at  home!  See,  they've 
crowned  him  already." 

But  Bobby's  mother  looked  with  the  clear  eyes 
of  most  women,  and  all  mothers. 

"They  have  not  crowned  him,"  she  said,  smiling, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "The  absurd  little  King! 
They  have  forgotten  to  take  off  his  paper  crown!" 


THE  LINCOLN  PENNY  475 

The  dead  King  lay  in  state  in  the  royal  chapel. 
Tall  candles  burned  at  his  head  and  feet,  set  in  long 
black  standards.  His  uniform  lay  at  his  feet,  his 
cap,  his  sword.  The  flag  of  his  country  was  draped 
across  him.  He  looked  very  rested. 

In  a  small  private  chapel  near  by  lay  old  Adelbert. 
They  could  not  do  him  too  much  honor.  He,  too, 
looked  rested,  and  he,  too,  was  covered  by  the  flag, 
and  no  one  would  have  guessed  that  a  part  of  him 
had  died  long  before,  and  lay  buried  on  a  battle 
field.  It  was,  unfortunately,  his  old  uniform  that  he 
wore.  They  had  added  his  regimental  flag  to  the 
national  one,  and  on  it  they  had  set  his  shabby  cap. 
He,  too,  might  have  been  a  king.  There  were  can 
dles  at  his  head  and  feet,  also;  but,  also,  he  had  now 
no  sword. 

Thus  it  happened  that  old  Adelbert  the  traitor 
lay  in  state  in  the  Palace,  and  that  monks,  in  long 
brown  robes,  knelt  and  prayed  by  him.  Perhaps  he 
needed  their  prayers.  But  perhaps,  in  the  great  ac 
counting,  things  are  balanced  up,  the  good  against 
the  bad.  In  that  case,  who  knows? 

The  Palace  mourned  and  the  Palace  rejoiced. . 
Haeckel  had  told  what  he  knew  and  the  leaders  of 
the  Terrorists  were  in  prison.  Some,  in  high  places, 
would  be  hanged  with  a  silken  cord,  as  was  their 
due.  And  others  would  be  aesthetically  disposed  of. 
The  way  was  not  yet  clear  ahead,  but  the  crisis 
was  passed  and  safely. 

Early  in  the  evening,  soon  after  he  had  appeared 


476  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING  ! 

on  the  balcony,  the  Court  had  sworn  fealty  to  Otto 
the  Ninth.  He  had  stood  on  the  dais  in  the  throne- 
room,  very  much  washed  and  brushed  by  that  time, 
and  the  ceremony  had  taken  place.  Such  a  shout 
from  relieved  throats  as  went  up,  such  a  clatter  as 
swords  were  drawn  from  scabbards  and  held  upright 
in  the  air. 

"Otto!"  they  cried.    And  again,  "Otto." 

The  little  King  had  turned  quite  pale  with  excite 
ment. 

Late  in  the  evening  Nikky  Larisch  went  to  the 
Council  room.  The  Council  had  dispersed,  and  Mett- 
lich  sat  alone.  There,  were  papers  all  about  him, 
and  a  glass  of  milk  that  had  once  been  hot  stood  at 
his  elbow.  Now  and  then,  as  he  worked,  he  took  a 
sip  of  it,  for  more  than  ever  now  he  must  keep  up  his 
strength. 

When  Nikky  was  announced  he  frowned.  Then, 
very  faintly,  he  smiled.  But  he  was  stern  enough 
when  the  young  soldier  entered.  Nikky  came  to  the 
point  at  once,  having  saluted.  Not,  when  you  think 
of  it,  that  he  should  have  saluted.  Had  he  not  re 
signed  from  the  service?  Was  not  his  sword,  in 
token  of  that  surrender,  still  on  the  table  and  partly 
covered  with  documents.  Still  he  did.  Habit,  prob 
ably. 

"I  have  come,"  he  said,  "to  know  what  I  am  to 
do,  sir." 

"Do?"  asked  the  Chancellor,  coldly. 

"Whether  the  Crown  —  whether  the  King  is  safe 


THE  LINCOLN  PENNY  477 

or  not,"  said  Nikky,  looking  dogged  and  not  at  all 
now  like  the  picture  of  his  mother.  "  I  am  guilty  of 
—  of  all  that  happened." 

The  Chancellor  had  meant  to  be  very  hard.  But 
he  had  come  through  a  great  deal,  and  besides,  he 
saw  something  Nikky  did  not  mean  him  to  see.  He 
was  used  to  reading  men.  He  saw  that  the  boy  had 
come  to  the  breaking-point. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said,  "and  tell  me  about  it." 

But  Nikky  would  not  sit.  He  stood,  looking 
straight  ahead,  and  told  the  story.  He  left  nothing 
out,  the  scene  on  the  roof,  his  broken  promise. 

"Although,"  he  added,  his  only  word  of  extenua 
tion,  "God  knows  I  tried  to  keep  it." 

Then  the  message  from  the  Countess  Loschek, 
and  his  long  wait  in  her  boudoir,  to  return  to  the 
thing  he  had  found.  As  he  went  on,  the  Chancellor's 
hand  touched  a  button. 

"Bring  here  at  once  the  Countess  Loschek,"  he 
said,  to  the  servant  who  came.  "Take  two  of  the 
guard,  and  bring  her." 

Then,  remembering  the  work  he  had  to  do,  he 
took  another  sip  of  milk.  "These  things  you  have 
done,"  he  said  to  Nikky.  "And  weak  and  wicked 
enough  they  are.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  you  found 
the  King." 

"Others  found  him  also.  Besides,  that  does  not 
affect  my  guilt,  sir,"  said  Nikky  steadily. 

Suddenly  the  Chancellor  got  up  and,  going  to 
Nikky,  put  both  hands  on  his  shoulders. 


478  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

Quite  to  the  end  now,  with  the  Countess  not  in 
her  rooms  or  anywhere  in  the  Palace.  With  the  bon 
fires  burned  to  cold  ashes,  and  the  streets  deserted. 
With  the  police  making  careful  search  for  certain 
men  whose  names  Haeckel  had  given,  and  tearing 
frenzied  placards  from  the  walls.  With  Hilda  sitting 
before  her  dressing-table,  holding  a  silk  stocking  to 
her  cheek,  to  see  if  she  would  look  well  in  black. 
With  Miss  Braithwaite  still  lying  in  her  drugged 
sleep,  watched  over  by  the  Sisters  who  had  cared  for 
the  dead  King,  and  with  Karl,  across  the  moun 
tains,  dreaming  of  a  bride  who  would  never  be  his. 

Quite  to  the  end.  Only  a  word  or  two  now,  and 
we  may  leave  the  little  King  to  fulfil  his  splendid 
destiny.  Not  a  quiet  life,  we  maybe  certain.  Perhaps 
not  a  very  peaceful  or  untroubled  one.  But  a  brave 
and  steadfast  and  honorable  one,  be  sure  of  that. 

What  should  we  gain  by  following  Olga  Loschek, 
eating  her  heart  out  in  England,  or  the  Committee 
of  Ten,  cowering  in  its  cells?  They  had  failed,  as  the 
wicked,  sooner  or  later,  must  fail.  Or  Karl,  growing 
fat  in  a  prosperous  land,  alike  greedy  for  conquest 
and  too  indolent  for  battle? 

To  finish  the  day,  then,  and  close  with  midnight. 

Nikky  first,  a  subdued  and  rather  battered  Nikky. 
He  was  possessed  by  a  desire,  not  indeed  unknown 
to  lovers,  to  revisit  the  place  where  he  and  Hedwig 
had  met  before.  The  roof  —  no  less.  Not  even  then 
that  he  hoped  for  himself  any  more  than  he  had 
hoped  before.  But  at  least  it  could  not  be  Karl. 


THE  LINCOLN  PENNY  479 

He  felt  that  he  could  relinquish  her  more  easily  since 
it  was  not  Karl.  As  if,  poor  Nikky,  it  would  ever 
make  any  difference  who  it  was,  so  it  were  not  he! 

Strangely  enough,  Hedwig  also  had  had  a  fancy  to 
visit  the  roof.  She  could  not  sleep.  And,  as  she  had 
not  read  the  Chancellor's  mind,  her  dressing-room, 
filled  to  overflowing  with  her  trousseau,  set  her 
frantic. 

So  she  had  dismissed  her  maid  and  gone  through 
Hubert's  rooms  to  the  roof.  Nikky  found  her 
there.  He  stood  quite  still  for  a  moment,  because  it 
was  much  too  good  to  be  true.  Also,  because  he  be 
gan  to  tremble  again.  He  had  really  turned  quite 
shaky  that  evening,  had  Nikky. 

Hedwig  did  not  turn  her  head.  She  knew  his 
steps,  had  really  known  he  must  come,  since  she  was 
calling  him.  Actually  calling,  with  all  her  deter 
mined  young  will.  Oh,  she  was  shameless! 

But  now  that  he  had  come,  it  was  Nikky  who  im 
plored,  and  Hedwig  who  held  off. 

"My  only  thought  in  all  the  world,"  he  said. 
"Can  you  ever  forgive  me?"  This  was  tactless. 
No  lover  should  ever  remind  his  lady  that  he  has 
withstood  her. 

"For  what?"  said  Hedwig  coolly. 

"For  loving  you  so."  This  was  much  better,  quite 
strategic,  indeed.  A  trench  gained! 

"  Do  you  really  love  me?    I  wonder." 

But  Nikky  was  tired  of  words,  and  rather  afraid 
of  them.  They  were  not  his  weapons.  He  trusted 


48o  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

more,  as  has  been  said  somewhere  else,  in  his  two 
strong  arms. 

"Too  much  ever  to  let  you  go,"  he  said.  Which 
means  nothing  unless  we  take  it  for  granted  that  she 
was  in  his  arms.  And  she  was,  indeed. 

The  King  having  been  examined  and  given  some 
digestive  tablets  by  the  Court  physicians  —  a  group 
which,  strangely  enough,  did  not  include  Doctor 
Weiderman  —  had  been  given  a  warm  bath  and  put 
to  bed. 

There  was  much  formality  as  to  the  process  now, 
several  gentlemen  clinging  to  their  hereditary  right 
to  hang  around  and  be  nuisances  during  the  cere 
mony.  But  at  last  he  was  left  alone  with  Oskar. 

Alone,  of  course,  as  much  as  a  king  is  ever  alone, 
which,  what  with  extra  sentries  and  so  on,  is  not  ex 
actly  solitary  confinement. 

"Oskar!"  said  the  King  from  his  pillow. 

"Majesty!" 

Oskar  was  gathering  the  royal  garments,  which 
the  physicians  had  ordered  burned,  in  case  of  germs. 

"Did  you  ever  eat  American  ice-cream?" 

"No,  Majesty.    Not  that  I  recall." 

"  It  is  very  delicious,"  observed  the  King,  and  set 
tled  down  in  his  sheets.  He  yawned,  then  sat  up 
suddenly  — "Oskar!" 

"Yes,  Majesty." 

"There  is  something  in  my  trousers  pocket.  I  al 
most  forgot  it.  Please  bring  them  here." 

Sitting  up  in  bed,  and  under  Oskar's  disapprov- 


THE  LINCOLN  PENNY  481 

ing  eye.  because  he,  too,  was  infected  with  the 
germ  idea,  King  Otto  the  Ninth  felt  around  in  his 
small  pockets,  until  at  last  he  had  found  what  he 
wanted. 

"Have  I  a  small  box  anywhere,  a  very  small 
box?"  he  inquired. 

"The  one  in  which  Your  Majesty's  seal  ring  came 
is  here.  Also  there  is  one  in  the  study  which  con 
tained  crayons." 

"I'll  have  the  ring  box,"  said  His  Majesty. 

And  soon  the  Lincoln  penny  rested  on  a  cushion 
of  white  velvet,  on  which  were  the  royal  arms. 

King  Otto  looked  carefully  at  the  penny  and  then 
closed  the  lid. 

"Whenever  I  am  disagreeable,  Oskar,"  he  said, 
"or  don't  care  to  study,  or  —  or  do  things  that  you 
think  my  grandfather  would  not  have  done,  I  wish 
you  'd  bring  me  this  box.  You  'd  better  keep  it  near 
you." 

He  lay  back  and  yawned  again. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  Oskar?" 
he  asked. 

"I  —  I  have  heard  the  name,  Majesty,"  Oskar 
ventured  cautiously. 

"My  grandfather  thought  he  was  a  —  great  — 
man."  His  voice  trailed  off.  "I  —  should  —  like — " 

The  excitements  and  sorrows  of  the  day  left  him 
gently.  He  stretched  his  small  limbs  luxuriously, 
and  half  turned  upon  his  face.  Oskar,  who  hated 
disorder,  drew  the  covering  in  stiff  and  geometrical 


482  LONG  LIVE  THE   KING  ! 

exactness  across  his  small  figure,  and  tiptoed  out  of 
the  room. 

Sometime  after  midnight  the  Chancellor  passed 
the  guard  and  came  into  the  room.  There,  standing 
by  the  bed,  he  prayed  a  soldier's  prayer,  and  into  it 
went  all  his  hopes  for  his  country,  his  grief  for  his 
dead  comrade  and  sovereign,  his  loyalty  to  his  new 
King. 

King  Otto,  who  was,  for  all  the  digestive  tablets, 
not  sleeping  well,  roused  and  saw  him  there,  and  sat 
upright  at  once. 

"Is  it  morning?"  he  asked,  blinking. 

"No,  Majesty.   Lie  down  and  sleep  again." 

"Would  you  mind  sitting  down  for  a  little  while? 
That  is,  if  you  are  not  sleepy." 

"I  am  not  sleepy,"  said  the  Chancellor,  and  drew 
up  a  great  chair.  " If  I  stay,  will  you  try  to  sleep?" 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  talk  a  little?  It  may  make  me 
drowsy." 

"Talk  if  you  like,  Majesty,"  said  the  old  man. 

King  Otto  eyed  him  gravely. 

"Would  you  mind  if  I  got  on  your  knee?"  he 
asked,  almost  timidly.  In  all  his  life  no  one  had  so 
held  him,  and  yet  Bobby,  that  very  evening,  had 
climbed  on  his  father's  knee  as  though  it  was  very 
generally  done.  "I  would  like  to  try  how  it  feels." 

"Come,  then,"  said  the  Chancellor. 

The  King  climbed  out  of  bed  and  up  on  his  lap. 
His  Chancellor  reached  over  and  dragged  a  blanket 
from  the  bed. 


THE  LINCOLN   PENNY  483 

"For  fear  of  a  cold ! "  he  said,  and  draped  it  about 
the  little  figure.  "Now,  how  is  that?" 

"It  is  very  comfortable.  May  I  put  my  head 
back?" 

Long,  long  years  since  the  Chancellor  had  sat 
thus,  with  a  child  in  his  arms.  His  sturdy  old  arms 
encircled  the  boy  closely. 

"I  want  to  tell  about  running  away,"  said  the 
King,  wide-eyed  in  the  dusk.  "I  am  sorry.  This 
time  I  am  going  to  promise  not  to  do  it  again." 

"Make  the  promise  to  yourself,  Majesty.  It  is 
the  best  way." 

"  I  will.   I  intend  to  be  a  very  good  King." 

"God  grant  it,  Majesty." 

"Like  Abraham  Lincoln?" 

"Like  Abraham  Lincoln,"  said  the  Chancellor 
gravely. 

The  King,  for  all  his  boasted  wakefulness,  yawned 
again,  and  squirmed  closer  to  the  old  man's  breast. 

"And  like  my  grandfather,"  he  added. 

"God  grant  that,  also." 

This  time  it  was  the  Chancellor  who  yawned,  a 
yawn  that  was  half  a  sigh.  He  was  very  weary,  and 
very  sad. 

Suddenly,  after  a  silence,  the  King  spoke:  "May 
a  King  do  anything  he  wants?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  Chancellor  hastily. 

"But,  if  it  will  not  hurt  the  people?  I  want  to  do 
two  things,  or  have  two  things.  They  are  both  quite 
easy."  His  tone  was  anxious. 


484  LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

"What  are  they?" 

"You  would  n't  like  to  promise  first,  would  you?" 

The  Chancellor  smiled  in  the  darkness. 

"Good  strategy,  but  I  am  an  old  soldier,  Majesty. 
What  are  they?" 

"First,  I  would  like  to  have  a  dog;  one  to  keep 
with  me." 

"I  —  probably  that  can  be  arranged." 

"Thank  you.  I  do  want  a  dog.  And — "  he 
hesitated. 

"Yes,  Majesty?" 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  Nikky,"  said  the  King.  "And 
he  is  not  very  happy.  He  looks  sad,  sometimes.  I  — 
I  would  like  him  to  marry  Hedwig,  so  we  can  all  be 
together  the  rest  of  our  lives." 

The  Chancellor  hesitated.  But,  after  all,  why 
not?  He  had  followed  ambition  all  his  life,  and 
where  had  it  brought  him?  An  old  man,  whose  only 
happiness  lay  in  this  child  in  his  arms. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said  gently,  "that  can  be  arranged 
also." 

The  night  air  blew  softly  through  the  open  win 
dows.  The  little  King  smiled,  contentedly,  and 
closed  his  eyes. 

"I'm  getting  rather  sleepy,"  he  said.  "But  if 
I  'm  not  too  heavy,  I  'd  like  you  to  hold  me  a  little 
longer." 

"  You  are  not  too  heavy,  Majesty." 

Soon  the  Chancellor,  worn  not  with  one  day,  but 
with  many,  was  nodding.  His  eyes  closed  under  his 


THE  LINCOLN  PENNY  485 

fierce  eyebrows.  Finally  they  both  slept.  The  room 
was  silent. 

Something  slipped  out  of  the  little  King's  hand 
and  rolled  to  the  floor. 

It  was  the  box  containing  the  Lincoln  penny. 


THE  END 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


/< 


A     000779405 


